


Would You Know My Name

by claudia6913



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 42,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia6913/pseuds/claudia6913
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Spoilers:</b> Up to Season 5 finale<br/><b>Summary:</b> Supernatural Gen Fic.  Dean is dead and allows Tessa to take him to Heaven, but some of his cherished memories are gone or have been tampered with. Castiel is stuck on Earth and Bobby helps him get to Dean.  Written for NaNoWriMo 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own SPN and do not seek monetary gain from this. Everything belongs to Kripke et all.  
>  **Distribution:** , AO3. Ask to repost.

**Prologue**

It is over.

Done. 

The Apocalypse has been averted and the impossible has been realized, however it’s cost them dearly. Adam and Sam are both trapped in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. Bobby's neck has been snapped by a cruel Lucifer, and Castiel’s been utterly destroyed with just the click of a few fingers. Which leaves him, Dean, sitting on ground that has been soaked in his own blood, broken and alone.

One last exhale, and Dean turns to look down at himself for a moment, his body sits before him as he stands detached above it. He turns to look over the landscape around him. There is a measure of himself that rails against it all, the unfairness of the events and how they have unfolded. But that part is small compared to the section that is a tiny bit thankful. Thankful it’s over, that the suffering of he and his brother will end. Though, that is not true. His brother will suffer on forever, for an eternity as he is trapped in a cage in Hell with Lucifer.

"Dean," a voice says softly behind him.

His eyes close. He doesn’t need to turn around and see who he knows is standing close behind him. "Tessa." A small feminine hand rests on his shoulder.

"It is time," she says.

Slowly, Dean turns to face her as well as face what he knows is coming. He glances down at his broken body, already feeling a strange sort of detachment from the flesh. He does feel an odd sort of pity for that body, for what it’s been put through. Eventually he turns his attention back to his Reaper. "What about Sam?" He has to ask. There has never been a time where his brother was far from his thoughts and even in death, that does not seem to have changed.

Tessa sighs and shakes her head sadly. "I cannot help him." A dark look passes over Dean's face for a brief moment before the Reaper takes his arm, forcing him to look at her. "And neither can you." Her voice is firm. Final. Absolute.

How he hates that word. Absolute. Nothing is absolute. He and Sam have proven that so many times and in so many ways. There is always something to be done, some loophole to exploit, some demon, god, or other creature, that has the one thing they need to change the tides. But her words ring with truth. At least for her, there is nothing to be done. Not now. Not disconnected from his body. 

"He doesn't deserve that – Hell," Dean says sharply, gesturing to the ground where the rings still lay connected, the grass dead around them. He’s sure the ground is unconsecrated now, dead to anything, never to feel life upon it again.

"Sam made his choice," Tessa says calmly. "He saved millions of lives."

"So why won't someone save his?!" Dean cries out.

"It is not my place," the Reaper says apologetically.

"Screw you," Dean shrugs out of her touch and takes a step away. "Screw you. Screw God, Death, Lucifer – the whole lot of 'em!" Once again Dean feels that soft hand on his shoulder. She’s nothing if not persistent, and she had promised him the last time that she would not let him go so easily.

"It's time to go."

For a brief moment he thinks he can cheat death just one more time and walk away. But it’s not meant to be. Not this time. Bobby lay where he fell, neck snapped, soulless eyes staring into nothingness. He briefly recalls a few of his favorite memories of the old bastard, smiling fondly.

"He has moved on," Tessa says, answering his unspoken question about Bobby.

Dean's eyes move to the blood spatter where Castiel's vessel had exploded. There’s nothing left of his vessel but blood and tissue scattered in all directions.

"He is beyond reach," Tessa says, but Dean already knows that. The Angel has been utterly destroyed, and with him, the last bit of hope he had been harboring.

So much loss lay before him, and so much more lays in his past. A trail of corpses is his legacy, longer than the trail of lives he and his brother have saved. Surely he deserves rest now. He and Sam, they have saved the world. 

"You know what will happen if you remain here," the Reaper says, gently reminding him of the many foul spirits he had come across in his lifetime. Poor souls who refused to believe they were dead, or had some other agenda like revenge keeping them from going peacefully. Briefly he contemplates that afterlife. Haunting this ground, taking revenge … but on what? On whom? 

With one last look at the ground that has swallowed his brother and his last tie to this world, Dean nods. Tessa takes his hand in hers and leads him gently away to where he will spend his eternity ...

Heaven.


	2. One

**Chapter 1**

To say dying and going to Heaven is disorientating would be an understatement. Time flows differently here. Dean arrives in Heaven already behind the wheel of his beloved Impala, cruising along for what seems like ... forever. Sam is once more by his side, the both of them simply taking in the views. Dean stops the car occasionally to stretch their legs when the scenery is simply too beautiful to pass up. That's one of the things Dean loves about their lifestyle. He gets to see more of the States than anyone typically gets to see.

Dean senses there is something off about Sam – but the thought keeps fluttering away as soon as it comes to him, like a butterfly evading a net. Every time he reaches for that nagging feeling something takes his attention away. The glare of the sun or his favorite song would come on the radio and he forgets his last line of thought as he thumps the wheel and sings along. Or Sam will motion for him to pull over for another breathtaking view and a small walk. Eventually the feeling grows less and less until Dean can't remember why it is they keep driving. There is no destination in mind. Just the open road before them. The idea that there are no other cars on the road only seems to bother him for the briefest of moments.

The Impala comes to a stop just outside a familiar blue, two-story house. The passenger seat next to him is suddenly empty, but this does not phase Dean as he can no longer remember it ever being occupied. This is his house. The house he grew up in before everything had gone so ... wrong. He feels the child in him again, happy, carefree, and living a life that he was meant to live.

His mother waves to him from the front porch and calls for him to come inside. Dean steps out of the car and slowly walks up to the house, taking in the sights, and remembering a much simpler time. He steps through the door and finds himself not in his early childhood home, but at Bobby's house. It is one of the many times his father has dropped he and Sam off while he was busy working on a job nearby. The sudden loss of his mother hits him again, but the pain is dulled, soft around the edges.

"You comin' or what, boy?" Bobby calls from the front door.

Following slowly, he wonders where Sam is and takes a moment to look around. However, there seems to be no sign of his little brother. Eventually Dean follows Bobby through the door and finds himself once again in a different place than he expected. This time it is an old barn with sigils and symbols covering the inside walls and ceiling in thick black paint. He remembers this night. It was shortly after he had been brought back from Hell by ...

Bobby is at the table behind them, going over the spell he they had just completed, both have their shotguns out and close at hand. The scent of the spell recently completed is still on the air, but nothing has happened. They both feel rather let down by the lack of answers. Suddenly the door and roof of the barn begin to shake and rattle. They jump to their feet, guns ready and aim for the door. The lights above them burst in a shower of sparks. The doors fly open and ... nothing.

But that isn't right, Dean knows. There is supposed to be a man there. No, not a man. Something more than that. Someone ... but the thought trails off. Behind him Bobby slumps to the ground as Dean runs out of the small barn looking for ...

Two park benches sit empty before him. They look out onto a park full of kids playing and mothers watching. He moves to one and sits down, trying to calm the pounding in his head. The other seat is empty, but he knows it is meant for someone else.

Dean looks out at the playground, the same as he remembers it; kids playing, children laughing, parents chatting. But there is still that nagging feeling that another person is supposed to be there with him. Talking to him. Telling him important things that would shape him and change him and lead him to this eventual end. But try as he might, he can't quite picture who it is, nor will their name come into focus for him. It is on the tip of his tongue and then dies away. Dean sits on the park bench, leans on his knees, and closes his eyes trying hard to concentrate. Still nothing comes, and all he gets for his effort is the heavenly equivalent of a headache. He kicks out at a rock near his foot only to have it and his surroundings morph into a new scene.

This is beginning to get ridiculous. It took him a while to adjust to the suddenness of the changes, but now he knows immediately where he is and apparently he is reliving his greatest hits. The Impala, in all her sleek sexiness and horsepower glory sits just ahead of him on the road. Ready and waiting for him to climb in behind the wheel and bring her to life. He knows there is one person who can help him here, one that had helped him the last time he was in Heaven.

"Ash!" Dean calls out as he walks to the road where the Impala sits. "Anytime you wanna show up would be nice."

Remembering time moves differently in Heaven, Dean waits next to the Impala for Ash to show his skinny white ass. The sun, or what passes for it here in Heaven, slowly makes its way across the too perfect sky which is a shade of an unnaturally occurring blue. The trees sway in the perfect gentle breeze. Eventually the tranquility of the place, the perfectness of the fluffy clouds as they pass overhead and the comfortable temperature begin to wear on Dean. It is wrong. There are supposed to be fluctuations, changes, things that are unpredictable. A cloud that is shaped like a middle finger, a breeze that seems to purposefully aim itself right into your ear, a tree that creaks in that creepy way that keeps you just alert enough and your eyes searching. But there is none of that here.

Even under the best of conditions Dean is not a patient man, but if he feels one more perfectly timed, perfectly moderate breeze he is going to scream. "Screw it," Dean says finally, climbing in the Impala and revving its engine. "All roads lead to somewhere."

If Ash won't come to him, then he will just have to go to Ash. Dean decides he will drive there, to the Roadhouse, just as he'd done so many times before.

Cruising along, his radio blasting, Dean can almost forget he is dead. He can almost forget he is in Heaven. And for just one tiny, fleeting moment - he can forget about Sam jumping into the cage and about Bobby crumbling to the ground - and about ... all of that.

Bob Seger's "Beautiful Loser" comes on the radio and Dean turns it up a little, head bobbing to the beat he knows so well. "At least there's still good music in Heaven," Dean says getting into the song. The Impala's engine roars as Dean puts the pedal down, enjoying the drive.

For one brief and blissful moment Dean is well and truly at peace. But then he glances at the empty passenger seat beside him and the loss of Sam comes crashing down around him. He can no longer enjoy himself. How can he? Dean, having been in Hell himself, has at least an idea of what Sam is going through. The cage, or all that it is, is located in Hell. He remembers all too well the welcome Hell has for the Winchesters.

The radio crackles and pulls Dean from his thoughts on Sam, and Hell, and torture. He reaches over and plays with the knobs. A voice cracks but is unintelligible, probably some talk radio show he has no intention of listening to. He plays with the knobs again.

"Dean," a voice says before fading away into another song.

Dean pulls over to the side of the heavenly road and begins attempting to find the station again. Surely he hadn't missed that. Someone had said his name. A voice … a familiar voice.

"Hello?!" he calls banging on the dash. "Anyone there?"

After a few minutes and no luck finding the disembodied voice, Dean gives up. He has a vague memory of he and Sam having a conversation with the Impala's radio the last time they were in Heaven with ... someone. Someone he trusted and cared about. But he still cannot place the name.

The more Dean thought about it, the more he was able to piece together that the same "someone" is missing from his memory. They were supposed to have been at the barn with he and Bobby, then again at the park on the benches ... and the voice in the radio, surely that was him as well. Whoever 'he' was. But why would someone go through the trouble of removing someone from his memories? He is dead after all. He is in Heaven and destined to stay here for all eternity. He can think of no reason to remove anything. He is no longer a danger to anyone or anything on the Earthen plane. After all, what can he do from Heaven?

However, he is who he is. Dean Winchester. And he absolutely hates that someone has messed with him, even now. Vowing to get his memories back and find out who is behind it, he hops back in the Impala and takes off in a squeal of tires towards the one person who can start him on his journey. The genius ... Ash.

Back on the road, Dean concentrates on Ash and the Roadhouse, hoping that with his mind focused, the road in Heaven will lead him to the destination he desires.


	3. Two

Dazed and confused, Castiel rises from the blood and gore of his vessel, miraculously made whole again. His clothes are clean and his body intact. He sends a small thank you prayer Heavenward. On new legs and with new eyes he takes in the scene before him.

The cage is closed and the rings lie in the still, dead grass. There is no sign of Sam, Lucifer, Adam, or Michael. Bobby lay dead next to where Castiel is standing. Without hesitation, he bends down and places two fingers on the older man’s forehead and wills his soul back into his body while simultaneously fixing his broken neck. He emits a heavenly glow and the shadow of his wings grow behind him for just a moment while he works his miracle.

Standing up, Castiel searches for Dean. He finally finds him battered and broken on the other side of the Impala. He feels sorry for the man, the human he’s come to care so much for. This human has gone through so much in his life. Most would think it unfair. Bending down, the light and shadow of his wings spreads as Castiel places two fingers on this one’s forehead as well, willing the soul to return and the injuries to heal. He hears the bones mending, but the soul...he cannot call to it.

Confused, Castiel sits back on his haunches and looks at Dean searching with Angelic senses. Dean’s soul is not lingering, waiting. He has moved on, but that should not hinder him. There is nothing on his body to restrict the return of his soul. He looks Heavenward, certain that is the direction his soul has gone. He tries again, the light and shadow playing off the trees and tall grasses, but nothing. His soul is blocked from him.

Crunching of sticks and leaves on the ground precede Bobby’s approach and Castiel stands to meet him, a look of confusion and determination mingled on his face.

“Well?” the old hunter asks.

Ignoring him, Castiel looks around at their surroundings, again searching for things unseen to the human eye. There are no symbols around, on, or near Dean to prevent the Angel from returning his soul.

Impatient, Bobby pushes Castiel’s arm,”Fix him.”

“I ... I cannot,” Castiel says. He steps away from Bobby and the crumpled remains of Dean and searches further, perhaps the entire field had been placed within a circle. But then that did not explain why he was able to revive Bobby and not Dean.

“Why the hell not?!” Bobby asks, anger and panic in his voice.

“Dean has moved on,” Castiel says, not explaining further for he does not fully understand it himself. It should not matter if Dean’s soul is in Heaven. If it is, then it would be so much easier to retrieve it. Perhaps it was it Hell, though that is cruel in Castiel’s mind, to put that soul in Hell. Again. However, that should not have been an issue either. It has been mere hours since Dean’s death, even less time really because his body is not yet cold.

Bobby sinks to the ground next to Dean, tears in his eyes, and pulls the man who had been like a son to him into his lap and rocks, silently weeping for both the boys.

“I am sorry,” Castiel says and vanishes.

****************  
Castiel appears in the home of Chuck Shurley, the prophet. A quick search shows he is gone, no longer needed now to chronicle the lives of the Winchester’s. The words “The End” are on the computer in front of him with printed pages laying to the side. With the speed of an Angel, Castiel reads the final chapter, looking for something that may give him a clue as to what happened while he'd been destroyed. He pauses on the last few paragraphs and notes that the prophet does not mention Dean’s death. Surely that would have been something to have been scribed.

Closing his eyes, Castiel wills himself to Heaven.

When he opens his eyes he finds he is still in the prophets house. He tries again. Yet again he opens his eyes to reveal he is still Earth-bound.

Castiel pulls open his shirt and searches his torso for any Enochian spells that would prevent him from entering Heaven. He wills himself to a mirror in the house and checks his back. Both were clear. He searches his pockets, feels his scalp. There is nothing.

Angry, Castiel wills himself back to Bobby.

“Something is wrong,” Castiel says from the passenger seat of the Impala.

“Jesus!” Bobby yells in fright, nearly swerving off the road.

“No, it is just I, Castiel.”

“You idjit! Don’t do that, or you’ll have to pull me from the dead again!”

“My apologies.”

Bobby takes a deep breath. “Damn right something’s wrong. Sam’s in a hole with Lucifer and Dean is dead in the backseat.” He glances at Dean in the backseat via the rear view mirror. For a brief moment, he can lie to himself and think Dean is just sleeping. But it would be just that…a lie.

“I am unable to access Heaven.”

“Is that why you couldn’t Lay Hands on Dean?”

“Perhaps. I was able to revive you. However, he has...moved on willingly and out of my grasp.”

“Then try again,” Bobby insists. “Or go get that idjit and tell him to quit bein’ a damn fool.”

“I told you, I cannot bring him back. His soul is beyond my reach,” Castiel says, clearly irritated that he has been limited.

“Well you did fine with me,” Bobby says, unable to understand what the issue is.

“Your soul still lingered.”

“Are you saying he ...,” Bobby’s voice trails off, unable to say it. He doesn’t understand why Dean has moved on, why he didn’t stay, wait … just a little while at least. Surely the kid didn’t think it was over. Sighing, Bobby realizes that is exactly what Dean thought. That it was over and there was nothing he could do. Bobby had been dead, Castiel destroyed … probably from Dean’s perspective, it was useless to hang around.

“His soul now resides in Heaven. Without access to Heaven, I am unable to retrieve his soul and bring him back. “

“Balls!”


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Night falls, though not as Dean was used to on Earth, but suddenly and abruptly; like a light switch has been flicked. It is a shock and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. As they do, lights appear over the horizon ahead next to the road, catching his attention.

The Roadhouse.

The Impala rolls into the parking lot, gravel crunching under the tires. Dean cuts the engine, unable to hold back a small nostalgic smile. It even looks old and abandoned like it had on the day he and Sam had first visited the place. Climbing out of the car, Dean walks to the door slowly and it creaks open as it always had. Lights are off in the place, and the Roadhouse truly looks abandoned.

Only a few feet in and Dean feels a poke at the base of his spine. "Oh God, please let that be a gun," he says, half joking.

"No," a familiar female voice says from behind him, "I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move."

This isn't the Roadhouse of Ash's Heaven, Dean realizes. It is one of his. He remembers this night clearly. With a fluid turn, Dean grabs the gun from Jo, releases the bullet in the chamber, and tosses it aside. Knowing what is next, Dean easily ducks the punch Jo throws at him.

"Jo! It's me," Dean remarks waving his hand in front of her face, but she is unphased. It seems this particular memory is destined to play itself out, with or without his participation. Which is fine with him. He has better things to be doing anyway.

"Sorry Dean, I can't right now. I'm a little ... tied up," Sam states, walking through the kitchen door, Ellen pointing a gun at his head from behind.

The rush of seeing his brother again fills Dean and he cries out, "Sammy!" and runs to him. "You're alive!” But as soon as the words leave him, he knows they aren't true. That isn't the Sammy of now, but one from the past. Ghosts like the others and playing his part in Dean's personal Heaven version of "This is Your Life".

"This is cruel!" Dean yells at the ceiling, hoping someone somewhere is listening. The others continue on their conversation without him, silence filling the air when he should be speaking. It is eerie and kind of gives him the creeps.

"Ash, man, where are you?" Dean asks, looking around. He doesn't actually expect a response, and only vaguely acknowledges the scene that is playing around him in so much as to avoid bumping into anyone. He slips behind the bar and pours himself a drink of whatever is closest at hand. Who knows if he can actually get drunk, but he is damn well going to try.

"Hola, mi amigo!"

Looking over his shoulder to the door behind him Dean sees ... "Ash?"

"In the ephemeral flesh!" Ash flips his hair over his shoulder. He walks up to Dean and gives him a very manly one-armed hug which Dean returns.

"'Bout damn time man," Dean says. "I've been looking for you since I got here.”

Ash leans on the bar. "Hey, you kept moving, man. Hard to track a moving target."

"Whatever, just ... get me out of here. I'm tired of the highlight reel," Dean says, motioning to Jo, Ellen, and Sam who are still having a conversation as though he is still there.

Ash walks to the storeroom door and draws a symbol in chalk, then opens it. "Mi casa, es su casa."

The two men walk from one Roadhouse to another. Ash's version of the Roadhouse is less run down, however, and better lighted. Ash gets them both a beer, pops the tops, and takes a long draining drink of his as he puts the other in front of Dean.

"News on the Angel Network is you and your brother broke the rules and won the final showdown," Ash says after belching.

Dean takes a long drink, but doesn't look at Ash. "No one won a damn thing. Sam put Lucifer back in his cage, but went down with him to do it and I ... well, you see where I ended up. Tell me who won."

Nodding in agreement, Ash grabs another two beers and puts them on the bar. "So, where is he? We'll go get him."

Pinching the bridge of his nose Dean tries to hold back the emotion that threatens to overwhelm him. "He's ... not here."

"Stopping the Apocalypse, that's got the tick the right boxes for 'Ole Peter," Ash says with a wink.

Dean can still see the look on Sam's face with Lucifer in the driver's seat, riding the controls as his brother's fist pummeled Dean over and over again. He'd known he was dead the moment Lucifer had started. But something happened and Dean had watched as Sam slowly took back control of his body. It had been a damn miracle. And then Sam told him it would be okay. Sam telling him that ... it would've been funny if it hadn't sounded so much like _Goodbye_. Then Sam opened the cage and threw himself in, taking Michael with him. His whole family – dead and gone. Not in Heaven with him, but in a cage in Hell, with the Devil himself. Nothing needed to be said though, Ash got the gist of where Sam was without Dean needing to say a word.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean says quickly, draining the rest of his beer and hitting the one in waiting hard. Ash reaches below the bar and gets two tumblers and fills them two fingers full of bourbon. Good man that he is, Ash leaves the bottle out. If only he can get shit-faced drunk, then it truly would be Heaven.

The two of them drink in agreeable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. After an unmeasurable amount of time Dean manages to package up his feelings about Sam and lock them away. Being vulnerable and touchy-feely is not going to help Sam, nor will it help him get out of Heaven. He needs to focus.

"Hey, you still got that Angel radio thing?" Dean asks.

Pulling the modified computer out, Ash says "Yeah, but it's not been makin' much sense lately." He turns the volume on. Even filtered, the voices of the Angels are piercing. It is nothing compared to hearing one in real life ... but he can't remember how he knows that. Dean's right shoulder begins to ache and he rubs it and rolls it around to loosen the muscles.

"What do you mean? Sounds like they're chittering to me," Dean says.

"Well, I heard the battle was going down, and then Heaven went silent. Few minutes of silence then – **BOOM** – all hell, figuratively speaking of course – breaks loose and it's been crazy ever since." Ash takes a long drink. "You guys didn't follow the script."

"Good," Dean says, satisfied smile on his face. They'd saved millions of lives. The Angels could go screw themselves and their script for all he cared. Lucifer is no longer a threat. And it has cost he and Sam dearly. "Anything on there about screwing with my noggin'?" The scenes in his Heaven are incomplete, missing a player, he knows. He just can't remember who.

"Amigo, there's no noggin' to mess with up here."

"Well, someone's done something. There's a name on the tip of my tongue, but I can't remember. Then there was the voice on the car's radio ..."

"A voice?" Ash asks, intrigued.

"Yeah. Look, I'm not crazy. It said my name. And ... I feel like this wasn't the first time it had happened."

"A communication in Heaven? From someone unknown into your own personal Heaven. Not sure how that would work. Give me a bit and I'll figure it out." Ash types away furiously on his computer, already enthralled with the idea and how to solve the problem.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Well, well, well," Ash says after a few hours of silence.

"What've you got?" Dean asks, grateful to be pulled out of his thoughts. He had been thinking dark thoughts that were leading him in a vicious cycle of self-blame and self-hatred.

"Seems there's a few of our angelic friends are trying to get a do-over on the Apocalypse." Ash whistles and shakes his head and what he is reading on his computer screen.

"Who?" Dean demands, coming to stand behind Ash. Not that the screen makes any sense to him, but he’ll be damned if he and Sam will have sacrificed their lives and Sam's soul for nothing.

"Doesn't look like there's many of them, but they're up there on the head honcho's list. I'm talkin Archangels and General's." Ash squints at the screen. "Seems odd that God would order his Angel's like a military. But not many names have been mentioned, and the plans are very hush-hush. No mention of your head or memories, nor anyone you should be forgettin' about."

"There's got to be something." Dean stops behind Ash and looks at the screen again, willing it to give over information. But that is useless to him. It is all Enochian gibberish and squiggly lines.

"Well, they are super pissed at you and Sam." Ash says with a derisive laugh. He hits a few more keys on his computer and the chatter dies away to barely discernable noise. Another few clicks and loud Angel-Speak all but pierces Dean's ears. "This one ... wants your head on a platter," Ash says, shaking his head.

"Who is that?"

A few more clicks and Ash squints at the screen again. "Reading Enochian is kind of like looking at one of those 3D pictures with a picture inside it. You have to look at it just right and ... Roger ... or Ralph ... or ..."

"Raphael," Dean says with certainty.

"Yeah man, how'd you -"

"That no good feathered bastard!" Dean throws the tumbler in his hand against the wall where it shatters.

"You two not buds then," Ash assumes as he gets another glass from behind the bar.

"Understatement."

"Then this next part won't be too surprising." Ash takes a big drink of whiskey as Dean motions for him to get on with it. "This Raphael dude ... he's the one that wants you for breakfast."

"Well, isn't he going to be surprised when he goes looking for me," Dean says tossing a shot back. He pours another, "'Cause I ain't in Kansas anymore."

"No man, he's gunning for you here. In Heaven."

"Are you sure you translated that ... overgrown bird-speak right?" Dean questions.

"Dude," Ash gestures at himself, offended Dean would even ask that.

But Dean isn't paying him any attention. Of course boy-wonder over there translated it right. But why would Raphael be after him? So what if he is pissed about the Apocalypse or rather the lack of one. It is over. He can't change the past. Dean had proven that the last time he'd been sent back to try to change history. Fate has a way of working out what needed done in order to keep the balance.

"Has there been a huge influx of souls into Heaven since I got here?" Dean asks quickly. He wishes Sam were here to bounce ideas off, to give some guidance, though he'd never admit he welcomed it. But Ash would have to do in a pinch.

"No one has said anything on Angel Watch," Ash says while typing. "What, you think they haven't started yet because there would be a ton of deaths?"

"Something like that." Dean doesn't want to go into a huge explanation of the Fates and their idea of balancing the scales. If there is no mass exodus of souls into Heaven, then that likely means Fate isn't intervening. Which then implies that not starting the Apocalypse is in keeping with the natural balance of the world and the souls within. "I need to find someway to get out of here and back to Earth."

"Not without divine intervention mi amigo," Ash scoffs. "Again."

"Or get a message to ...," but Dean doesn't know who to contact. All of his friends, his family, everyone he trusted his entire life is dead.

"Ash, find me Bobby," Dean says, hating that he had not begun his search for his mentor sooner. Bobby would be able to help them out and maybe even get them back in a body so they could then get Sam out of that cage with Lucifer. Hope bubbles up in Dean's chest until he feels about to burst. He can't believe he hadn't thought of all this before. Dying certainly puts a cramp in his style.

"Um," Ash says after a few minutes.

"Well, where is he?"

"Dean, man, Bobby's not ... he's not here," Ash says slowly.

"What do you mean?" Dean starts shaking his head. "No. No. If anyone ticked all the right boxes it was Bobby. That man he ... he ..." Dean collapses into a chair, the idea crushing him. "Is he in ... Hell?" Even the words have trouble forming. It just isn't possible.

"I don't know," Ash says apologetically. "I can't get Demon Radio. I only know what is going on up here, and Bobby never came through those Pearly Gates."

Dean pours himself a few drinks in quick succession, thinking furiously. He doesn't want Bobby to be in Hell. That man does not deserve such a fate. But neither can Dean see him lingering on as a ghost. He knows what that does to a spirit after time. And a death like Bobby's was sure to have created some vengeful feelings. Or, perhaps, Bobby is not dead. But that doesn't fit either. Dean had clearly heard the snap of his neck, seen him crumple like a sack of potatoes to the ground. There is no getting back up from that, even for a tough old bastard like Bobby.

If only he had a way to communicate with spirits on the Earth, because that's what had to have happened to Bobby. There is no way he would've been headed for Hell. Then Dean can help Bobby cross over into Heaven and they can work this together.

"Get Pam," Dean says finally.

Ash doesn't say anything, just takes his chalk and writes a symbol on the door. He walks through and takes a few minutes but eventually he comes back with Pam in tow.

“Hey Dean, good to see you again, I suppose," Pam says smiling. She takes the drink Ash hands her. "Where's Sam?"

Dean drops his gaze to the floor. "He did it. He stopped Lucifer." Dean sighs. "But to do it he had to jump into the cage with him."

"Oh God, Dean," Pam gasped, hand going to her mouth in shock.

"Look, there is a lot going on. I am the only one that made it up here. Sam is in the cage and Bobby died but, according to Ash, isn't up here. So ... I think he's lingering on Earth. I need to see if there is a way you can do that Astral Projection thing again and get me down there to get bobby up here so he can help figure out how to get us back to Earth and then get Sam out of Lucifer's cage." He looks expectantly at Pam who stands wide-eyed staring at Dean.

"A little too much?" he asks.

"Even if what you are asking is even remotely possible, you are not sure Bobby is dead, let alone a wandering spirit. What if Castiel ..."

The room immediately floods with light and several people in grey three piece suits appear out of thin air. In the forefront is an Angel dressed in blue, and one that Dean recognizes immediately.

"Raphael."

"Dean Winchester," the Angel says, taking a step forward. Dean moves and Ash and Pam move behind him.

"To what do I owe this unpleasant visit?" Dean asks, stalling. His mind has been flooded and filled back up with missing information from the moment Pam had said Castiel's name. That was who Dean couldn't seem to remember. He doesn't understand why someone had removed the memories of Cas, but surely that means something.

"You are not where you ought to be," Raphael says, looking around him. "Movement between Heavens is supposed to be restricted to the Angels. You never cease to surprise, do you."

Dean smirks and shrugs, surreptitiously looking for a weapon of some kind. He knows Raphael has an Angel blade on him, as well as the entourage with him, but he needs to find a way to relieve one of them of their weapon, otherwise it will be a pointless fight. Then again, it is never really pointless to fight.

"That was not a compliment," Raphael says. He looks at Pam and Ash behind Dean with disgust. "Perhaps we should find a more private arena.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Raphael waves his hand and the Roadhouse melts away along with his friends. Around him is now a large den. One of those old ones out of a bygone era of gentlemens clubs and cigar lounges. Wood is polished to a near mirror like quality and gleams around them from every surface. He is now sitting in a very plush leather chair that squeaks when he moves.

The Angel sits beside him in an identical chair, a small side table in the same deep, rich wood sits between them. He calmly and quietly pours two tumblers of a golden liquid and hands one to Dean. When Dean doesn't take it he shrugs and puts it down. Silently he takes a sip of his own before placing it too down and then steeples his hands and crosses his legs.

"Dean Winchester," Raphael says again, a small derisive laugh coming at the end. "You are an impossibly infuriating human."

"So I've been told," Dean says. He takes note of the two Angels standing next to the door, motionless and staring, wearing the same grey as the ones in the Roadhouse. Flunkies then, he thinks. His task of getting out of this place has gone from extremely unlikely to nearly impossible.

"You and your brother have made quite a mess of things in your lifetime."

"No, we've just cleaned up after you and your dear 'ole Daddy," Dean counters. He stands up as Raphael's face furrows in a frown. He notes that none of the Angel's seem to truly like their Father, yet they refused to hear ill of him. How very human of them, he thinks. There is a bookcase nearby and Dean makes a show of reading the spines, though in reality he's not paying attention to them. There are weapons and baubles and various artifacts fitted into the bookcases as displays around the room.

Raphael laughs and shakes his head. "I'll never understand why our Father made such ... egotistical and arrogant creatures." He takes another sip of his drink and leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees as he watches Dean. "If we had not shown ourselves to you, if you had not been a vessel for Michael, you would never have acknowledged His or our existence. You would have continued on your life never having known His glory. You should praise Him and thank us for allowing you to know Him and his Angels."

It is Dean's turn to laugh. "Praise Him?" He shakes his head, a hand running across a shelf that houses a replica of the Spear of Longinus. "You're just a flunkie to another god who wants attention." Raphael's eyes narrow in anger, but Dean ignores it, wanting the anger, needing the Angel to become angry and foolish. "I've seen gods come and go. I've seen gods fall. Hell, I've killed one or two in my lifetime because they felt they deserved worship. Well, I got news for you pal – you gotta earn it. And from what I've seen your dear old Daddy hasn't earned shit from me."

"Enough!" Raphael yells as he stands. Thunder rings out from the room around them and his wings darken the walls behind him. "How dare you speak to me like that."

"Don't get your panties in a twist big guy," Dean says, turning to face him. He crosses his arms, slipping the small knife he just took from the shelf into his coat sleeve. "What do you want?" He spreads his arms. "You didn't bring me here to tell me to pray more, so what's the deal then?"

Smiling, Raphael sits back down. "You are infuriating, but correct." He motions to one of the Angels by the door and they step quietly out of the room. After a few moments he returns and moves to the desk at the far end of the room where he places a large ornate silver bowl, a ritualistic knife, and several herbs.

"You are going to open the cage and release Michael and Lucifer."

Choosing not to remark on the subject, Dean shakes his head instead. One thing nags at him, however. “Why did you remove my memories of Castiel?”

“It was so much more than that,” Raphael says, gloating. “Couldn’t have our dear Castiel pull you back down to Earth.”

*****************************

The rings sit on Bobby's desk, set apart from the books and the booze. They each are still connected to form the square that had opened the gate to Lucifer's cage. But now, without the Horsemen, they are benign and useless, just bits of meaningless jewelry.

Bobby is becoming more and more hopeless as the days wear on. Castiel has not returned since the night he announced he knew where to look to get Dean back. The old hunter has not as of yet resorted to praying to the Angel, though he had been tempted a few times. The possibility of no response from Cas keeps him from attempting it.

A knock sounds on the front door and Bobby goes to answer it, swaying a bit from indulging in too much drink. The person knocks again and Bobby hollars, "Give me a minute!" He reaches for a shotgun in the umbrella stand in the foyer. He cocks the gun, making sure it's loaded, then opens the door.

The gun drops from Bobby's hands in shock.

"Hey Bobby," Sam says with a little half smile and a wave.

Immediately Bobby pulls him in for a hug then pushes him away. He fumbles in his pockets and produces a flask. Opening it, he throws Holy Water on Sam who takes it in stride. Silently Bobby pulls a silver knife from his belt and hands it to Sam who gives a look, but obediently rolls up his sleeve and cuts his arm.

"Happy?" Sam asks, handing the knife back. He pulls a handkerchief from a pocket and wraps it around the fresh wound, applying pressure.

Still silent, Bobby pulls him in for another hug. He lets go and knocks him on his head. "You idjit!"

"Good to see you too," Sam says laughing.

Bobby motions for Sam to come inside and closes the door behind him after looking around for anyone else. He takes a minute and looks over Sam closely before stepping back and asking, "How?"

Sam shrugs.

"When?" Bobby asks.

"Um, a couple days ago, I think," Sam says. "Can we ...," he motions further inside as they are still standing in the foyer.

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby says distractedly. He leads him to the office and pours himself a quick drink, downs it, then pours another. Realizing he's staring he gets another glass and pours one for Sam who takes it with a small smile.

"Sorry," Bobby says, "it's just ..."

"Me? What about you?" Sam asks. "I ... I remember Lucifer ..." He makes the motion Lucifer had with his hands when he'd broken Bobby's neck.

"Castiel," Bobby says by way of explanation.

"But Lucifer ... he was gone Bobby," Sam says.

Bobby shrugs. "Miracle I suppose."

Sam nods. "So, where's Dean?"

Bobby's eyes drop to the floor.

"Did I ...," Sam whispers, his voice cracking. He moves to sit down, putting the glass down and his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. He runs those hands through his hair and looks back up at Bobby with pain and tears in his eyes.

Bobby can't lie to Sam, and it breaks his heart to see him like this.

"We're working on getting him back," Bobby says finally. He moves to put a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Wait, you mean Castiel brought you back, but not Dean? Why?" Sam asks, angry.

"He tried, Sam, he tried," Bobby assures. "But ... he couldn't."

"Why?" Sam asks, confused. "I've seen him do it before. Hell, he brought you back, didn't he?" Sam shakes his head. "Lucifer completely destroyed him. I saw that. What ... what happened?"

Bobby sits down next to him. "It wasn't your fault."

"I said yes," Sam counters.

"You did what you had to do to save millions of lives, boy. It wasn't an easy decision." Bobby attempts to console Sam. "I came to with Castiel above me. He thinks God brought him back, which I'm inclined to believe. When I came to, you and Adam were gone and these rings," he motions to the Horsemens rings on the desk, "were on the ground. Dean was ... against the Impala ...," Bobby trails off.

"Dead," Sam finishes for him.

Bobby nods. "Castiel tried several times. Mostly at my insistence."

"But ... nothing?" Sam asks, confused.

"He says something is keeping him from getting Dean back."

Looking around, Sam asks," So where is Cas?"

Bobby rolls his eyes. "He took off again." He walks to the fridge and grabs two beers. He comes back and hands one to Same who nods in thanks. "So ... I have to ask. What happened to you? How did you get out?"

Sam twists the top and takes a long draining drink. "I ... honestly don't know. I remember grabbing Michael and pulling him into the pit with me, but after that ... nothing. I woke up on my back in the field. It was dark, there was no one around." Sam shakes his head. “I just assumed Dean had tried a spell or called in a favor and got me out somehow."

"Why did you hitchhike here if you thought I was dead?" Bobby asks.

"I just ... I thought Dean would be here." He shakes his head. "A while ago, we agreed if we were in trouble or got separated we would meet up back here."

His boys, Bobby thinks, emotion choking him for a moment. He silently pats Sam on his shoulder before moving around the room thinking. He knows he needs to contact Castiel, but the Angel has of yet not answered a single one of his prayers. But someone had, Bobby thinks glancing at Sam. At least half of it. Now all they need to do is get Dean back and avoid another Apocalypse and then they will be set.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 

Raphael has his goons move Dean to another room. This one is sparsely furnished - just a chair, a side table with a pitcher of water, and a single glass on it. There are a few Bibles in a couple different languages on a small bookshelf against one wall. There is not even enough room to get a good pace going from one end to the other. Dean tries the door moments after they had throw him in here, and of course they've locked it. The room contains no windows and no vents. The only means of exiting the room is the one door.

After Raphael did his big reveal, he became very withdrawn about what Dean's part in the Apocalypse is going to be despite Dean asking repeatedly. The knife and the silver bowl kind of spoke for themselves. He will be damned all over again if he is going to sit idly by while they ritualistically murder him or do whatever those feathered freaks are planning.

Dean has been over every inch of the room twice already looking for something to jimmy the door with. There is no real lock visible and the hinges are on the outside of the door. He uses the reflectiveness of the dagger he stole to look under the door. The goons never seem to move. Don't they get tired of standing all the time, he wonders.

What's worse, there is no real sense of time in this place. There is no clock to tick off the seconds, minutes, or hours. Dean feels he could have been in this room for hours or days. Either way, he is slowly going crazy in here. He’s paced, he’s sat, he’s played a little air guitar, he tries to holler and shout to be let out, he’s banged on the door until his hand bleeds, and practices some with the small knife.

Noise just outside the door grabs his attention and he takes the glass and places it against the wood of the door and listens. The words are muffled, even with the aid, but he gets the gist of them ... they are almost ready for him. Well, Dean thinks, turning the small knife in his hand, they will just have to try and take him.

************

Sam and Bobby agree that they need to call Castiel back, however, Bobby insists Sam do it as Cas has never answered him since he'd gone on his quest to find answers. He hates all this waiting around he has been doing and is itching to finally get something done.

"Dean always either makes a big joke of it or is angry when he calls for Cas," Sam says, a little nervous. It's not always gone well when he has called Castiel in the past either. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and lowers his head. "Um, Castiel, we pray to you. This is Sam and I -"

The air is displaced as Castiel appears in a flurry of coat and air. Both Bobby and Sam smile, but Cas only has eyes for Sam. He rushes the younger brother and grabs him by the throat, pushing him against the wall. Bobby yells out at him, but he ignores it.

Sam puts his hand out towards Bobby, silently asking him to calm down and let this play out. He can understand Castiel's anger towards him, but does not want to provoke the Angel further.

Castiel stares into Sam's eyes searching, looking beyond them for anything that does not ring true.

"Uh, hey Cas," Sam says.

"Who are you?" Castiel growls.

"It's me, Sam." Castiel tightens his grip for a moment on his neck. "Really," he croaks, "Cas, it's me."

"I ... I tested him – best I know this is really Sam," Bobby interjects.

"How do we know this is not Lucifer tricking us. That he did not just put Michael in the cage and walk away?" Castiel asks, eyes still boring into Sam, head cocked to the side. The fury of the Angel is palpable in the room.

Bobby sighs and shakes his head. "He's got a point, son. I'm sorry."

"Look," Sam says putting his hands up in surrender, "I'll do whatever you want me to do to prove it is me. I jumped into the cage and took Michael with me. I have no idea how I got out. That's the truth."

Castiel releases Sam's throat but does not move back. Instead he puts his hands on either side of Sam's head against his temples and closes his eyes. This places him inside Sam's mind and he watches the memories of that day and his subsequent release from the cage. There are memories missing, time wiped clean, but he can find no trace of Lucifer inside him.

After a few moments he releases Sam's head and steps back, but he does not completely let his guard down. Unfortunately, it is entirely possible Sam is being used in some way.

"As far as he is aware, he is telling the truth," Castiel finally says.

"Do you know how he got out?" Bobby asks.

Castiel shakes his head. "I cannot imagine he would simply be released by Lucifer."

"Trust me," Sam says, "It doesn't make any sense to me either, but I'm damn glad I'm out."

The Angel takes a few steps away, still looking at Sam warily, but for a moment a seed of hope burgeons in his chest. Perhaps his Father was merciful in this as well. Could it be that God is not as apathetic as he wishes to appear, Castiel wonders. Or this is Sam's reward for doing what his Father would not? Either way, he could not sense Lucifer in Sam. He would have to have Faith then, that this is meant to be and is the will of God.

The hunters sense a change in Castiel and watch as his shoulders visibly relax. Sam and Bobby share a look as they too begin to relax. Sam takes a deep breath and approaches Cas.

"Look, I'm sorry for ... you know," Sam says awkwardly, alternately placing one hand in his pocket while the other combs through his hair.

"Destroying my vessel and sending me into oblivion," Castiel answers for him. The two hunters eyes widen in shock. “It was Lucifer's doing. I knew there would be consequences to my actions."

"Yeah, well, good we've all made up," Bobby says, back to business. "Now can we skip the Kumbaya and get back to saving Dean's hide?"

"Dean," Sam says. "Do we know where he is?"

"He's in a cold storage unit in the basement of this house," Castiel says nonplussed.

"He's what?!" Sam exclaims.

Bobby steps up putting his hands on Sam's shoulders. "I couldn't just leave him there," he explains. "So I ... put him on ice."

"That was not necessary. As soon as I am able to retrieve Dean's soul I can repair any decomposition done to his body," Castiel says, not seeing Sam's horrified face.

Sam takes off to the basement without a word and immediately spots the large freezer. He stands in front of it, both afraid to open it and wanting to see his brother again. He only vaguely hears the other two follow him down. Bobby tries to pull him away, saying something about not seeing his brother this way, but he yanks out of Bobby's grasp. With a deep breath he opens the lid.

Inside is Dean, tucked on his right side, knees up to his chest. There is a small film of ice on Dean's entire body. Sam finds that Dean's face, however, is strangely lacking the wounds he had inflicted on him as Lucifer.

"I ... I mean Lucifer, he ... he beat him up, bad," Sam whispers.

"I healed that damage when I attempted to bring him back the first time -"

"Try again," Sam says, interrupting Castiel.

"I cannot bring him back," the Angel says. "Not until -"

"Try again," Sam says between clenched teeth.

Bobby nods and motions towards Dean. Castiel realizes Sam is in tremendous pain upon seeing his brother lying dead and gives a small nod. He has not found a solution to his problem, and does not believe this attempt will go any different than the others. He closes his eyes and sends a small prayer to his Heavenly Father as he places two fingers on Dean's forehead.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Dean hears the lock on the door tumble and quickly stashes the small dagger before the goon walks in. They only send in one, and he's not even a big guy. Dean almost feels insulted.

"Which one are you?" Dean asks, smiling. "Larry, Curly, or Moe?"

The Angel tilts his head in confusion. "I am Rogziel," he says and moves to grab Dean's arm.

The dagger drops to Dean's hand and he spins out of the Angel's grasp. However the room is too small to get out of his reach entirely. Rogziel grabs at him again and Dean swings the dagger, cutting his forearm. The Angel's eyes narrow in anger and he faces off Dean, taking better care to watch the knife. He comes at Dean again, another slash of the knife nicks Rogziel. But he's not dropping an angel blade and Dean fears he wasn't entrusted with one because Dean is not an Angel.

"Come on Roge. They're just nicks," Dean taunts, reaching out and placing another one on the Angel's cheek bone.

Still the Angel says nothing as he finally starts to avoid the small swipes done by Dean's blade. Taking a chance, Dean fakes to the left, spins the opposite direction and lands a deep cut on Rogziel's side. He hisses and his hand goes to the wound. There is no blood, however, and the wound heals before Dean's eyes. But finally, Rogziel lets his angel blade drop into his hand. Just as Dean wants. Now he fights in earnest. He blocks a clumsy punch and lands one of his own. The Angel kicks out and gets Dean on the side of his knee, but it doesn't cause much damage because the room is so small Rogziel is unable to put much force behind it. But then, Dean cannot put much force behind his blows either. Dean nicks Rogziel's face once, twice, and his hand another time.

"Are we going to fight or dance?" Dean asks, dodging another weak attempt at a hit. "Because, honestly, you're not my type. No offense, I'm sure you're a very nice ... guy, but I prefer my dance partners a little more busty. If you know what I mean."

Finally, Rogziel comes at him to get in a killing blow, blade high as it comes down towards Dean's head. The hunter blocks it with his left forearm and drives the dagger toward the Angel's chest. Rogziel allows it, knowing it will not harm him truly, but it distracts him enough that Dean is able to knock the angel blade loose. It clatters on the floor and another Angel comes to the door and enters. Dean dives for the blade as Rogziel pulls the dagger from his chest. The newcomer grabs Dean's leg and tries to pull him away from the blade but Dean has managed to get his fingers around it. He clumsily swipes at the second Angel and manages to slice the flesh of his hand. Holy light pours out as he howls and withdrawals. Rogziel grabs Dean with both hands and throws him against the far wall.

Dean hits with a loud thud, breaking some plaster and knocking the wind out of him. He slowly pushes off the wall, seeing stars and shakes his head. His vision clears just in time to see Goon Number Two, as he's named him, come at him. He reacts with pure instinct and lands a perfect heart shot with the angel blade. The glow and howls fill the room, then the vessel falls to the floor leaving an impression of his wings on the walls.

Rogziel lands a punch while Dean is distracted. Dean blocks the next one, but receives a quick kidney shot that puts him down to one knee. The Angel above him smirks and lands three face blows in quick succession. Dean spits out a mouthful of blood and looks up at him.

"Anyone ever tell you you hit like a girl?" he quips. This time he sees the blow coming and deftly blocks, swinging out with the blade. He guts Rogziel.

"Enough!" a voice from the doorway booms. Raphael stands there, fury in his eyes. "It is time."

Five more Angel's pour into the room. Dean has no where to go, but that doesn't mean he is going to give up. However, he is quickly overpowered, the angel blade is wrenched from his grasp and an arm is twisted behind him painfully. As a group they lead him out of the room single file with him in the middle.

Raphael walks next to him in the wide hallway. Dean expects to be led back to the den where Raphael had first brought him, but instead they head down a set of old stone steps set into a darkened corner.

"You know, dungeons are so last century," Dean says, breaking the oppressive silence.

Without a word the Angels stop as one. Raphael turns to face him. He back-hands Dean, and only the Angel holding him keeps him from falling to the steps.

"Silence," Raphael says. The Angels continue taking him further and further down.

Dean does not know if Heaven actually has an underground to speak of, or really any understanding of where he is. There is not any discernable light source on the stairwell, but it is lit with a dim yellow glow. The stone looks old and well worn, pitted in areas, and there is a faint odor of water and mold.

This place is too Matrix-like for him. Does the chicken taste like chicken? Do clouds have dungeons?

Finally they come upon a large stone door. It takes four of the five Angels from the entourage to push open the door. It scrapes loudly against the floor, stone on stone. Inside is dimly lit by flickering candles everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, and hanging from the ceiling. There are also symbols and sigils on every available surface except inside one rather small circle in the middle of the room.

The Angel holding Dean leads him into the only empty spot in the room. He recognizes some of the symbols as summoning sigils, and some looked like bastardizations of the Enochian Angel symbols that Castiel had shown him.

Raphael comes to stand in front of Dean and mutters softly to himself. He pricks his finger with a long needle letting a golden liquid fall onto the circle surrounding Dean. The air around him becomes super-charged making the hairs on his neck stand on end. The five Angels that accompanied them down each move to a corresponding circle. Raphael nods to them and each pricks themselves while chanting and close a circle around themselves. Raphael seems to be the only one free to move around as he places a silver bowl in front of each Angel.

"Quite the party," Dean says, unable to keep his mouth shut. This is so far beyond anything he has ever dealt with that it is making a little edgy.

"Not yet," Raphael says smiling. "It gets better."

Dean laughs awkwardly. "So, what's the plan?"

"The Apocalypse. I thought this had been made clear, Dean," Raphael says, leaning down to place a silver bowl in front of the hunter as well.

"Teachers always said I never paid attention," Dean shrugs. He moves his foot towards the edge of the circle, however the closer he gets the hotter the air inside becomes.

"Tsk, tsk," Raphael wags his finger. He reaches in his pocket and produces the herbs that were brought to him earlier. He then sits down Indian style in front of the bowl and Dean and starts chanting in Enochian, adding some of this and a little of that.

Dean realizes he is completely out of his element. These are enemies that are so much stronger than him that they are practically invincible without a special knife. Add to that he's in an impenetrable circle with a crazy Angel casting a spell that is sure to, at the very least, kill him and bring about the Apocalypse. Or at the worst, completely destroy all of mankind. And all he can think to do is sit there tossing lame jokes at an Angel hellbent on retrieving Lucifer from his hellish cage.

Panicked, Dean sends a small prayer to Castiel asking for him to do his stuff and get him out while he kicks and punches at an invisible wall hot enough to burn him. Within moments he is in too much pain to keep it up, his ethereal flesh burnt black in some spots.

The entire room goes silent, then suddenly there are five bursts of light as the Angels use their blades to slit their throats. The silver bowls below them collect their Grace as it falls.

Raphael stands slowly, silver blade twinkling in the light of the man candles. "Time for you to atone," he says, making a slashing motion with the blade towards Dean's neck.

Dean gasps loudly, taking in huge amounts of freezing cold air. His body is so cold. His arms are too slow to react to Raphael's blade. But …


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Dean!" Sam cries, pushing Castiel out of the way. Bobby comes over and helps pull Dean from the freezer.

"Sam?" Dean asks, teeth chattering. He is thoroughly confused. He was just about to be ... but Raphael …

Bobby gives Dean a big bear hug, nearly crushing him before letting go awkwardly. He smiles and pats Dean on the shoulder saying, "I'll get some blankets." His voice is thick with emotion and he wipes away a tear as he heads up the stairs. Castiel follows him, leaving the brothers alone for a moment.

Dean stands shivering in front of Sam. If he wasn't so cold, he'd likely start crying. He pulls his brother in for another hug, holding him tight. He doesn't care at the moment about the 'How's' or the 'Why's', just that they are together again. He'll never be able to fully express this feeling, but Dean knows his brother understands. Finally they pull apart, smiling.

"Damn good to see you, Sammy," Dean says, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

Bobby finally returns with some blankets and wraps Dean up. He is starting to get some color back in his cheeks as he warms up. He nods thanks at Bobby as best he can.

"Think you can walk?" Bobby asks.

Dean nods and the three of them troop up the stairs, But instead of finding Castiel waiting to greet them, they see him lying on the floor surrounded by Angels, Raphael standing over him.

"Dean and Sam Winchester," Raphael says, clapping his hands once and rubbing them together in delight.

"I think he just likes saying my name," Dean says, shrugging off the blankets.

"Dean, we have unfinished business to attend to," Raphael says, ignoring his comment.

"I'll pass," Dean says. "I got a taste and it wasn't my cup of tea."

Castiel groans from the floor. Raphael gives a swift kick to his ribs as he smiles down at the fallen Angel. "So meddlesome, Castiel. You never did learn your place."

"What do you want?" Sam demands.

"The end of the world, of course," Raphael says, stepping over Castiel to get closer to the brothers.

"He was using me in some sort of ritual. Cas pulled me out just before he was going to slit my throat," Dean supplies, giving Sam and Bobby an idea of what is going on. "Remind me to thank him later. Though I'm not sure how that would work, slitting my throat without a corporeal body to bleed."

"I do not need your blood, I need your ... essence," Raphael says. "And I was promised you would not be taken back to your body." Raphael gives an angry look to one of the Angel's with him who mutters an apology.

"So, kinda put a kink in your plans," Dean says, half smiling. He notices Bobby and Sam have slowly shifted to either side of him, waiting for a sign. But Dean wants to know more of Raphael's plans. They involve him, afterall.

"No matter," Raphael sighs. He motions to the Angel's around him. "Kill them."

Bobby grabs a gun from his waist belt and tosses it to Dean who catches it. Sam ducks a swing from one of the two Angels that come for him, but the other one lands a solid punch. That Angel then swings an angel blade at his midsection, but it only catches Sam's shirt.

The older hunter makes it to another gun stashed on a nearby table, momentarily thankful for his stashes, and takes a headshot at the Angel headed for him. The being flings backwards, landing sprawled on his back. He is shocked, but by no means down.

Dean is facing off three Angels at once. He is only able to dodge the blades as they come from around him, which isn't leaving much room to be offensive. He drops and kicks out at one set of legs, causing that Angel to topple and his blade clatters to the floor. One of the other two Angel's kick the blade away ... right to Sam. He grabs it and immediately plunges it into the Angel in front of him. Sam takes the blade and tosses it to Dean who makes quick work of the two coming at him.

"Hey, Raphael," Castiel yells from the floor. He rolls over and slams his hand on the banishing sigil he drew on the floor in chalk he conveniently found laying around, sending Raphael and the others back to Heaven in a brilliant flash of light.

"Took you long enough," Dean says, going over to Cas and giving him a hand up. As soon as Cas is standing Dean gives him a hug.

"Um, yes," Castiel says awkwardly. "We should put up wards. They will be back."

Bobby goes to his desk drawer and grabs a few paint markers and hands them out. The four of them go to different ends of the house and begin making it Angel-proof. Once finished, they meet in the parlor.

Dean, warmer now by far, goes to Sam and puts a hand on each of his shoulders. "Damn good to have you back, Sammy."

"What, no third degree?" Sam asks, smiling nervously.

"I assume Bobby's done that," Dean says nodding to the older hunter.

"Tested him every which way," Bobby confirms.

"I did too," Castiel pipes up, not wanting to be left out.

"Good enough for me then," Dean says.

"So, what was that all about?" Sam asks, motioning to the three dead Angel's still lying on the floor.

Dean sighs and goes into the kitchen to grab a drink. He sits down and starts from the moment Tessa came to him right up until Castiel pulled his soul back into his body. Castiel has been silent and pensive the entire time while Bobby and Sam filled in the bits of what happened to them.

"Yo, Cas," Dean says for the second time as he comes to stand in front of the Angel.

"It doesn't make any sense," he says softly.

"Tell me about it. I was there," Dean says, a little laugh on the end of his words. "You okay man?"

"No. Why does Raphael want the Apocalypse," Castiel wonders. "There would be an influx of souls to be sorted through, and it would ultimately result in one of his brothers death and there is no certainty Michael would be the victor. If Lucifer were to be walking around, he would then take on Raphael for his chance to rule Heaven. It would be the worst possible thing to happen."

"Look, I think the poor guy is a little off his rocker, to be honest," Dean says. "Anyone else hungry? I could go for some pie."

"I'll go get us some food," Bobby says, taking their orders before leaving.

"I believe the Reaper altered your memories of me," Castiel says out of the blue for the humans, though it was following his train of thought.

"Tessa?" Dean asks, not sure he believes it. He's had dealings with Tessa before. It didn't seem like something she would do.

"Reapers are the keepers and guardians of souls while they are in transition to Heaven or Hell. You remembered me while talking with her, you said, but not once you had arrived in Heaven," Castiel explains.

Sam nods, "It makes sense."

"No ... I mean, why?" Dean wonders.

"Reapers are very singularly focused on what they do, reaping souls. Beyond Death himself, how many appear to have had a mind of their own and chosen something different?" Sam asks.

"You think someone made Tessa scramble my memories?" Dean asks, confirming.

"Yeah," Sam says, shrugging. "Makes the most sense."

"How do we find out who ordered Tessa to remove me?" Castiel asks.

"We haven't had a good summoning in weeks," Dean says, clapping his hands together, then rubbing them. He smiles as Sam shakes his head ruefully. While he doesn't believe Tessa was acting on her own accord, he had to admit that her being manipulated would fit somewhat. Plus, he feels invigorated, being alive once more. He’d forgotten how good just the flow of blood in his veins and the beat of his heart felt.

Sam and Dean hit Bobby's books to find a Reaper summoning spell while Castiel stares out the window deep in thought. Bobby comes back with food only to be sent back out for a few supplies he doesn't have at the house.

"What are you looking for?" Dean asks Castiel from next to him. Sam and Bobby are prepping the spell and the circle for Tessa's summoning.

"He will be back," Castiel says ominously as he looks up at the sky.

"Eh, let him come," Dean says nonplussed. It had been ballsy to try and take on Raphael in Heaven, but here on Earth Dean feels the odds are more in his favor.

"I ... I was worried when I could not bring you back," Castiel says awkwardly as he looks at Dean's shoes. He is still uncertain of his connection with Dean. It is strong and it causes feelings in him that he does not have a name for.

"It's okay, buddy," Dean slaps him on the arm. "Once I remembered you, I knew you'd get me."

Castiel's lips quirked in a sort of half smile. "Your faith in me is ... appreciated."

"Don't mention it," Dean laughs.

"Dean I -"

"We're ready in here," Bobby calls, interrupting Castiel.

"What Cas?" Dean prompts.

"Nothing," the Angel says shaking his head. He walks out of the parlor and into Bobby's den, Dean follows behind puzzled by the Angel's odd behavior.

The circle is painted on the floor and has been modified to not only trap demons, but Reapers as well. There is a bowl with dried herbs, bits of animal bone, and a lit candle on Bobby's now clear desk.

"Ready?" Sam asks everyone.

"Go for it, Sammy," his brother says.

Sam begins chanting the summoning spell in Latin. At the appropriate times he adds in the herbs, bone, then lights the tapered candle. Once done, he tilts the candle into the bowl and ignites the ingredients. A strong wind blows through the house as a greyish-white smoke gathers in the center.

It all disappears to reveal Tessa in the middle looking slightly pissed with her hands on her hips. 

"How many times do I have to escort you?" She asks, staring daggers at Dean.

"Wasn't my time apparently," Dean shrugs, giving a small, charming smile.

"Your number was up years ago," Tessa scoffs.

"Whatever. You'll get me next time," he waves the idea away, wanting instead to get to the point. "Who told you to mess with my head?"

Confused Tessa takes a step forward only to find her way blocked by the circle. "What's going on?" she demands crossing her arms.

"Funny, that's what I want to know."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Tessa insists.

"Someone removed me from Dean's memory on his way to Heaven," Castiel growls.

"And you think I did that?" Tessa asks, bewildered. The four of them don't have to say anything, their expressions speak for them. "I provide safe passage for souls. I don't interfere."

"I don't believe you," Sam says, stepping up to the circle. "I think someone probably came up to you and told you to alter Dean's memory, just a little. Maybe they threatened you. Maybe you didn't care and did it just because."

"I. Did. Not. Do. Anything," Tessa says enunciating every word.

Castiel waves Sam over and whispers, "I am inclined to believe her."

"What?" Sam asks. "Are you serious? But you're the one that said it was her."

Dean and Bobby come over to Sam and Castiel, both silently asking what is going on.

"Give us a minute," Dean says to Tessa.

"Not like I'm going anywhere," she says annoyed, gesturing to the circle binding her.

The four of them move into the parlor together to get out of earshot of the Reaper.

"What's wrong?" Dean asks.

"Cas here believes her," Sam says scoffing as he motions at the Angel.

"I do too," Bobby agrees.

"She could be lying to us," Dean considers, but shakes his head at the idea. "But why would she? We have her trapped, and she honestly seemed surprised when we asked her, and a little offended."

"Reapers take great pride in what they do and their place in the order of life and death," Castiel adds.

"Fine, fine," Sam huffs, "she's telling the truth, but then we are back to square one. All we know is Raphael has it bad for the Apocalypse and wants to restart it."

"We know that whoever removed Cas from your memories is obviously with Raphael and his mission. He was upset when he came down to try for you again. I don't think these could be two separate events that just happened to coincide with each other," Sam says.

"I hate when you do that," Dean says, scowling.

"Do what?" Sam asks, confused.

"Be all smart and make sense," Dean says.

Sam laughs. "Whatever, I guess we let her go then?"

"And if she goes to whoever had her remove Dean's memories, assuming she's lying to us?" Bobby asks. Sam gives him a look. "I'm just playing Devil's Advocate here. Reapers aren't exactly easy to keep tabs on being that you usually can't see them unless you're dead."

"I can," Castiel pipes up.

"You can see Reapers?" Sam asks, slightly amazed.

"They are a neutral entity, but Angel's and Reapers sometimes work in conjunction with one another to help a soul pass over."

"Great!" Dean says, clapping his hands together. "You follow our girl over there and we will stay here and ..."

"Find out how to stop Raphael," Sam supplies.

The four of them agree to the plan and go back into the den. Tessa has her arms crossed and a hip cocked. She holds her arms out as if to ask them what they are going to do with her.

"You're free to go," Dean says.

"The circle, boys," she says, motioning to the floor.

Bobby takes his foot and rubs at the paint until it scuffs away.

"Until you die again, Dean," Tessa says as she disappears.

Dean nods to Castiel who disappears after her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It has been two days since they had released Tessa. Castiel has not stopped in to report on anything yet. Sam and Bobby are in agreement that no news is good news. But Dean is slowly going stir crazy being cooped up in Bobby's house. Both Sam and Bobby think that, for his own good, Dean should not leave the house until they figure out what Raphael is up to and how to stop him. Afterall, Raphael made it quite clear he wants Dean in a bad way.

Bobby sits Dean down and made him go over the room where Raphael had taken him. He’s given Dean some paper and asked him to draw any of the symbols he'd seen there. It is tedious work and Dean hated it, but recognizes it needs to be done. Bobby attempts to get him to repeat the Enochian Raphael and the other Angel's had been chanting, but it is practically useless without Castiel there to interpret. Plus, Dean isn't the best at remembering things like that.

Dean moves to the parlor, taking a little break and tossing a rubber ball against the wall leaving a blank peice of paper next to him. He'd drawn some of the symbols he's remembered seeing, but he is no artist and Bobby had asked him to draw the silver bowls Raphael had been using, as well as the knife.

"Dean."

No answer except for the thump, bounce, catch of the ball.

"Dean!" Sam yells.

"What?"

"It's really hard to concentrate when you do that," Sam says, walking to where Dean sits on the couch. The phone rings in the background and Bobby answers.

"I'm thinking too, ya know," Dean pouts. He tosses the ball again. And again it thumps, bounces ... but never makes it back to Dean. Sam catches it and opens the window behind the couch where he tosses the ball outside.

"Oh come on," Dean complains. "Really?"

Sam scowls and puts a finger to his mouth for silence as he goes back to his books.

"Okay, thanks Bruce. Yeah, you too. Bye." Bobby hangs up the phone.

"What's up?" Sam asks, seeing the look on Bobby's face.

"That was a buddy of mine. Said he's heard of a few death's in a town south of here called Vermillion. Said it's right up our alley."

"Well, alright!" Dean hoots. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about. Back to normal, doin' our thing. Out there. In the world. Not in this house."

"No," Sam and Bobby say in unison.

"Why not? Freaky deaths? Sounds like our kind of thing."

"It is," Bobby confirms. He holds up his hand when Dean opens his mouth to talk. "But you can't come, boy."

"Why not?" Dean pouts.

"Uh, Raphael the crazy Angel that's after your 'essence' – ring any bells?" Sam explains.

Dean waves the threat of Raphael away. "Cas set us up with walking wards," Dean pats his rib cage. "Besides, I'm going crazy, Sammy. I could literally crawl up the walls."

"And what if Raphael has someone spying for him to let him know where you are once you leave this house. He knows you're here," Sam counters.

"He is right," Castiel says from the kitchen doorway, scaring all three of them.

"A bell man, you need a frickin' bell," Dean says, taking a deep breath.

"I apologize if I frightened you, that was not my intention," Castiel says apologetically.

"Yeah, okay," Dean says waving it away. "What about Tessa?"

"The Reaper never spoke to anyone other than the souls she was helping," Castiel says.

"There," Dean motions to Cas while looking at Sam and Bobby. "Happy?"

Sam shrugs. "Fine, but you're not coming. Bobby and I will go."

"Great," Dean huffs. "And what will I do?"

"Man the phones," Bobby says pointing to the bank of phones set up behind his desk.

"This is ridiculous!" Dean exclaims in protest.

"They are correct, Dean," Castiel says. "You will be much safer here."

"You gonna hang with me and be my babysitter?"

"I am afraid I cannot. I need to go to Heaven to find out the extent of Raphael's reach and see if I can stop him from there," Castiel explains, then vanishes.

"Well, bye," Dean says sulkily.

"That's settled then," Bobby says sighing. He and Sam head for the door.

"Okay, well, be careful," Dean proclaims, following them to the door to see them off. "And watch each others backs! Don't forget to call if you need anything!"

Sam rolls his eyes, somewhat used to Dean's overprotective nature. But Bobby calls back, "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Dean slams the door shut moving to the den to wait by the phones. He surreptitiously watches them from the window as they pull away in Bobby's truck.

The roles now reversed, Dean wonders what Bobby would normally do when he and Sam went out on a hunt. He sits in Bobby's chair and puts his feet up on the desk. Putting his hands behind his head he leans back and closes his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Sam asks Bobby as they pull up to the Coroner's office in Vermillion, South Dakota.

"Dean?" Bobby confirms. Sam nods. "Sure. The boy'll be fine. Would do him some good I think to get a feel for what I do. Maybe he'll learn a bit of respect."

Sam laughs and shakes his head. "This it?"

"Yeah. A Doctor Malcolm Horn is who we're looking for," Bobby says reading the note he'd taken during Bruce's phone call. "Three dead."

Sam buttons his suit jacket as they enter the building that houses the Coroner's office. It is a non-descript place, no real signage to indicate where they were, just the Doctor's name on a plaque and a building number.

"May I help you?" a young female at the front desk asks. She has mousy, short brown hair, a plain face and little makeup.

"Yes," Bobby says, pulling out his badge. Sam follows suit. "I am Special Agent Barnes and this is Special Agent Nobel. We are looking for Dr. Horn."

The girl gets a little nervous seeing their FBI badges and trips over her chair as she stands. She hurries around her desk and says, "He's uh, he's with ... well ... he's doing an autopsy at the moment. I can ... let him know you're here?"

"That would be great, Miss ...," Sam prompts, smiling to ease her nerves.

"Sarah. Sarah Jackman," the girl says before walking briskly down the corridor to the autopsy room.

Sarah comes out a few minutes later a little calmer and says, "Dr. Horn would like you to come back now, if that's alright." The hunters stand and follow Miss Jackson back to the autopsy room.

The halls smell of a heavy antiseptic and bleach. Underneath that is the unmistakable scent of death. The two of them have been around it long enough now that it no longer bothers them. Sam notices Sarah's nose wrinkle, however, and concludes she is fairly new to this job.

Sarah opens the door to the autopsy room. "Agents, this is Dr. Horn."

"Thank you, Sarah," Dr. Horn says from behind his surgical mask. He motions to masks and some aprons next to the door. Bobby takes a mask, and Sam grabs both.

"I'm Angent Barnes," Bobby says, "and this is my partner, Agent Nobel."

"Yes," Dr. Horn says, still examining the body before him. "Excuse me if I don't shake your hand." He holds up a bloody glove.

The hunters wave their understanding. "So what do we have?" Bobby asks.

"Well, this is victim number three in the hunting murders. It seems to be that they each were killed by their own weapons," Dr. Horn says. "This is Daryl Fisher. He's quite proficient with a bow." Dr. Horn holds up three arrows, each bloody. "These were removed from his heart, throat, and abdomen. From what I've been able to discern, it seems the abdomen shot was first, followed by the heart and the throat in ascending order. The same was true of the other two victims. I'm glad Bruce was able to send his best men. This is nothing I've seen before. The Sheriff insists that the weapons all show traces of only being handled by their respective owners, but after the heart shot, there is no way they could have been able to shoot their own throat. They bled out from the abdomen hit first. It is very unlikely any of the three victims would have had enough energy to shoot for a second time, let alone with any accuracy."

"Do you think someone is killing hunters with their weapons and making it look like suicide?" Sam asks.

"You'll have to speak with Sheriff Gordon, but yes, that is what I think."

"Anything other than the weapon found as the cause of death?" Bobby wonders.

"No. It appears the killer is extremely careful to leave little to no evidence, at least not on the body or the projectiles. Sheriff Gordon has the victims clothing and weapons, he would be able to answer that." Dr. Horn finishes the last of the sutures on the body.

Sam nods, looking at the wounds on the victim and the skin around it. Eventually Sam and Bobby thank the Doctor for his time and ask where they can find the Sheriff.

"If he is not at the station, try the Market Street Cafe," Dr. Horn says.

The two of them say their thanks again and leave, waving at Sarah on the way out. Once in the truck Sam asks, "So, what do you think?"

"Definitely something fishy. Bruce didn't give many details. Likes to let you get your own feel for it, but he was right." It doesn't take them long to find the Sheriff. A quick call to the station verifies he is at the Cafe.

"Remind me to clock you and Dean one. Barnes and Nobel? Are you guys trying to get made?" Bobby asks, mad at them.

Sam just shrugs and says, "Dean gets them made."

"I told him stick with generic names."

They drive the couple blocks to the Market Street Cafe. The town is nice, if a bit small for being a college town. They park on the street and go into the cafe. They see the Sheriff immediately in his uniform and go over to him.

"Sheriff Gordon?" Sam asks after tapping his shoulder to get his attention. The Sheriff is older, mid-fifties, slightly balding salt and pepper hair, and a little round in his midsection. He nods.

"I'm Special Agent Nobel and this is Special Agent Barnes. We are from the FBI." Sam and Bobby flash their badges. "Do you have a moment to discuss the recent ... hunting accidents?"

"Hunting accidents?" Sheriff Gordon scoffs. "If you're talking about the three hunters found dead up the way, then they weren't no accidents, son."

"We ... we know that," Sam stutters. "Just trying to be discreet." He notices most eyes are on them now. He nods to a few of the closest people who are openly staring.

"Hank," an elderly man pipes up from a nearby table," that boy he was the best shot around. Ain't no way he 'accidentally' shot himself with his rifle." The Sheriff nods in agreement.

"And what about ...," Sam checks his notes, "Daryl Fisher?"

"Best marksman in the United States three years in a row," the Sheriff confirms. "He always shot what he aimed for. And Steve, he was just as good with his crossbow. Though Daryl still called it a gun. Was a bit of friendly rivalry between them, if ya know what I mean."

"And Mr. Fisher used a compound bow, I assume?" Bobby asks.

"Yeah, that's right," the Sheriff confirms.

"And all three were killed by their own weapons?" Bobby confirms their information.

"Yeah," the Sheriff shares a moment of silence with the townsfolk nearby. Seems they were somewhat of a close knit community. "Near as we can tell, no trace of anyone but them handling their own weapons."

"Would you mind if we see their personal effects?" Sam asks.

"Nope, more than welcome to them," Sheriff Gordon says, getting up from his table. He tosses some money down and gives a nod to a waitress and a few other patrons as they leave the Cafe.

Sam and Bobby follow the Sheriff to the station where they go through the mens belongings. They sniff for sulfur and check for hex bags or markings on the weapons. Nothing really seems amiss. The weapons are nice, but not really top of the line. The bow is certainly not what one would expect expert marksmen to have – it is a Diamond Outlaw Black Ops. Nice certainly, and well worth it, but by no means a 'competition' bow. The crossbow is a mid-range model PSE Reaper. There are obvious signs of wear and usage on the bows, as well as signs that these men loved their weapons as they are well taken care of. The rifle is a Remington 783, plain black, but well oiled. Bobby cocks the weapon and lifts it to his shoulder to look down the sight. He raises his eyebrows a little impressed and puts it down.

"Look at this," Sam says, calling Bobby over. He lays out three identical necklaces, each with a charm cast in gold on a leather tie that went around the neck. The charms are of a bow over laid with a quiver of arrows in an X shape.

"I thought only one of them was a bow hunter," Bobby says, turning one over in his hand. The two of them leave the evidence room as Bobby slips one of the necklaces in his pocket. They meet back with the Sheriff in the main part of the station.

"Do you remember the necklaces with the bow and arrows the men were wearing?" Sam asks. The Sheriff nods. "Where did they get them, do you know?"

"Yeah, it's from that new hunting lodge that opened up a month or so ago. It's about ten or so miles outside of town off of Bluff Road." Sheriff Gordon rubs his balding head. "You think they've got something to do with this?

"We don't know yet," Bobby says. "We'll call if we find anything. He hands the Sheriff his card. "And you'll do the same?"

Sheriff Gordon nods as they walk out the door. They drive to the Super 8 Motel on East Cherry Street and check in. After changing, grabbing a bite to eat, and doing a cursory search for the news on the three murders, Sam gives Dean a call.

"Bobby's house of Boredom, Dean speaking. How may I help you?"

Sam laughs. "That bad, huh?"

"Dude, you have no idea," Dean groans. "We need to get Bobby a better TV too. His just barely has color." Dean sighs. "Anyway, how's it going out there? You two knuckleheads need back up?"

"No, we're fine, but we do have somewhere for you to start researching," Sam says. He fills Dean in on what they know so far, the three hunters being killed by their own weapons and the talisman they all were wearing along with the possible link to the hunting lodge.

"Alright," Dean says. "Where do you want me to start?"

"The talismans," Sam says. "See if that symbol is possibly connected to anything ... unusual."

"Got it," Dean says slowly, writing things down. "But, if you, ya know ... need me or -"

"Goodbye," Sam interrupts, laughing as he hangs up the phone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Bobby goes back to the Cafe to get a bite to eat and chat up the locals while Sam stays at the hotel doing some research of his own. He finds the River Hills Hunting Lodge website. It looks like a semi-upscale hunting lodge, offering the finest in the area's Pheasant hunting. It opened four months ago. The owner is a Mike Hunter – the name making Sam snicker – who seems on the up and up. He calls Bobby to give him the lodge owners name so he can see if anyone in town has had dealings with him before. Eventually Bobby comes back to the hotel with dinner for Sam.

"Anything interesting?" Sam asks, digging into his Cobb salad.

"Not much. They were nice guys by all accounts. Respected hunters. Only Steve was married. Daryl was divorced and Hank was the typical bachelor. Daryl prefered his hunting to anything else."

They both agree to head out to the hunting lodge in the morning. The Sheriff had explained back at the station that all three men had been found in the hunting grounds just outside the lodge's property. They had been found by other hunters as they were going out for the day. The Sheriff said the lodge couldn't explain why the men were out hunting at night.

On the way to the lodge, Sam notices the sparseness of the land and how few and far between the houses are ... that is until they hit a few miles of wooded area. The lodge looms ahead of them on the right.

"Hey, look at that," Sam says pointing to the sign marking the lodge. It has the same bow and arrows symbol the victims had around their necks.

The lodge is large, appearing to loom over the guests. The wood throughout is mostly made of large beams the size of tree trunks – they cross to form the entrance which is flanked by two large black bears on their hind legs, looking menacing. Sam raises an eyebrow at the theatrical nature of it all and Bobby just shrugs in response. Inside it is warm and inviting, several sitting areas mark the lobby, each centered around either a fireplace or a large stuffed animal of some kind. There are animal rugs all over and trophies and other animal paraphernalia on every available surface.

"It's like the wilderness threw up in here," Bobby whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

Together they go to the main desk, introduce themselves as FBI Agents and request to speak with the owner. The young man at the desk nods quickly and rings Mr. Hunter and informs him he has guests. It is a few minutes before they see a gentleman in a suit much like their own walk up to them.

"How may I help you?" this man asks as he steps up to them.

"Are you the owner?" Bobby asks.

"Yes," he says holding out his hand to shake. "My name is Mike Hunter. Jimmy said you are FBI?"

They shake and Sam says," Yes, Agent Nobel and Barnes." They flash their badges. "Do you have a moment?"

Mr. Hunter nods and motions them over to a manager's office just off the front desk. "What can I do for you, Agents?"

"We are here about the murders of three hunters," Sam says.

The man pales visibly, his expensive suit showing the grey much darker against his skin. He wrings his hands and takes a deep breath before speaking. "I told the Sheriff I didn't know what happened to them," Mr. Hunter says quickly. "We are just beginning a pretty big hunting season and with our Grand Opening ... we have been booked almost to capacity for weeks."

Bobby nods," Do you have any video surveillance of them leaving the lodge on the night they were murdered?"

"Yes, I believe I gave a copy to the Sheriff already," Mr. Hunter says, wrongly assuming they would take that copy.

"We would like our own copy, please," Sam insists. "Also, is it possible we could have access to the rooms they booked?"

"I'll have to see if anyone has reserved those rooms yet or not." Mr. Hunter leads them out of the office and back to the front desk. He asks Jimmy to to look up the victims reservations and see if the rooms are free.

"They stayed in the same room," Jimmy says, typing away on the computer. "I remember because ... well ... they kind of made a point of making sure I knew they weren't gay," Jimmy whispers. "I kinda thought 'he doth protest too much', ya know?"

Mr. Hunter clears his throat and gives Jimmy a look to quit talking and work faster.

The kid stumbles over his fingers and a flush runs up his cheeks. "Um, they were in room 213. Doesn't look like it's been booked for a few days."

"Mind taking us up?" Sam asks, intentionally looking at Jimmy and not the owner. The kid is a talker, and that is what they needed at the moment. The boy looks to his boss who nods reluctantly. As the three of them walk away, Mr. Hunter motions to another employee to take over the front desk.

Once out of earshot of Mr. Hunter, Jimmy starts talking excitedly. "So you're here about their murders, huh?"

"Who said they were murders, boy?" Bobby asks gruffly.

"Well ... I just thought ... FBI wouldn't come around for some hunting accidents." Jimmy explains. "That's what Mr. Hunter is having us tell any guests that ask if they've heard the news. Most think it's as exciting as their first animal kill."

"You kill many animals?" Bobby asks as they wait for the elevator.

"I, well, one," Jimmy says awkwardly. Bobby scoffs. "But I remember these guys. Not just because of the gay comment. Uh, I mean, they were in the lobby a lot, showing off, telling stories of their greatest kills, ya know, showing off."

The elevator dings and they get in for a short ride to the second floor. Bobby rolls his eyes at Sam behind the kids back. As they get off the elevator, Sam asks, "So, were they popular?"

"What?" Jimmy asks, preoccupied with looking at the door numbers. They come on 213 and he opens the door. "Oh, yeah. Ladies loved them, always a group around."

"And the men?" Sam prompts.

"Oh, well, most were getting pointers or whatever." Jimmy closes his eyes then opens them and snaps his fingers. "There was one dude who would sit in the group just sit and not laugh, or join in or anything."

"Do you know his name?" Bobby asks as Sam goes into the room and looks through things, under the mattress, anywhere someone might put a hex bag. He also checks the window sill for sulfur.

Jimmy shakes his head. "No. I don't think he's ever booked a room with us. He just usually comes in for the bar and atmosphere I guess. Got a lot of guests that do that. The three guys that got murdered would do that too most of the time. Thought it was weird they booked a room when they lived so close."

Sam shakes his head very slightly when Bobby silently questions him after thoroughly checking the room and finding nothing.

"Do you know what this guy looks like? The one that just comes in for the atmosphere?" Bobby asks.

Jimmy scratches his head. "He's about ... average height I guess – around my height 5'7'' or 5'8''? I'm not sure. I usually see him sitting around the large fireplace in the middle of the room. He's got black hair, dark skin – like Mexican or Indian."

"Thanks man," Sam says, patting him on the shoulder and they leave the room.

"Hey, I bet he'll be here tonight," Jimmy says excited. "He usually comes in around dusk."

Sam and Bobby ask where they can find Mr. Hunter and Jimmy leads them to his office on the second floor before leaving to go back to his job. The office looks out over the entire lobby of the lodge with one-way glass. Inside there are some old hunting weapons on the wall. Sam goes over to look at them while Bobby get's the tape from him.

"Do you know where the victims might have gotten these?" Bobby asks, pulling the necklace with the bow and arrows charm out of his pocket.

"They are for sale in our shop," Mr. Hunter says, shrugging. "Many of our patron's have those, I am sure."

"This is ... South American?" Sam asks, pointing to a specific knife. It is highly decorated, at least eight inches long from hilt to tip, and painted in a faded war paint. "Mayan?"

"Aztec," Mr. Hunter corrects.

"It's in wonderful condition," Sam compliments. He notices the other weapons are not in as good of condition as this one.

"It has been in my family for many, many years," Mr. Hunter says fondly. He moves to the one-way glass and looks out over the lobby. "I assume you will use discretion in your investigation?"

"Of course," Sam agrees. He and Bobby leave the manager's office and heads down the elevator to the bar that is connected to the main lobby. They order a few drinks and move to sit at one of the smaller sitting areas dotting the lobby. The seats are made of a soft leather and very comfortable. The shared table is a small piece of oval glass sitting atop the severed foot of an elephant. Sam wrinkles his nose at it. Taking out his laptop, Sam sets it on his lap and begins looking up Aztec weapons.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Dean has a new sense of appreciation for all that Bobby does. Also, he feels a little sorry for the old man, being cooped up in his house doing research and answering phones all the time. Already he has fielded calls from Garth, an odd hunter who offered to come by and help him out (which Dean declined), a hunter named Kevin who hung up as soon as he found out Bobby wasn't there, and a chick that accused him of stealing Bobby's soul and threatened to kill him.

He pushes the latest book away as it contains nothing about the symbol Sam has him looking for. He wonders what Cas is up to and kind of wishes the Angel was there for some company, though he'd never admit that out loud.

His personal cell phone rings and he fumbles to answer it. "Yo."

"Dean," Sam says, "I got something."

"Oh yeah? Do you need me out there?" Dean asks hopefully.

"No," Sam laughs. "Narrow your search for an Aztec god named Mixcoatl."

"A god huh?"

"Found something online, but I'd like a little more information and confirmation that I have the right guy. There's also nothing here on how to kill it."

"You want me to confirm your research?" Dean asks doubtfully.

Sam sighs and Dean hears Bobby in the background say, "I told you so."

"Look, I need you to find out how to stop him if it comes to that."

"So what's his deal then?" Dean asks.

"Well, we found the bow and arrows on the sign of the lodge here and the owner has quite the collection of Aztec weapons in his office. From what I found, Mixcoatl is the god of hunting and used to be worshiped by hunters who would give offerings of blood to improve their abilities. Supposedly our three victims were the best hunters with their specific weapons."

"Makes sense. Alright. I'll see what Bobby's books say about this Mycoat guy and give you a call back," Dean says. "But, if you know ... if you need me ..."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam says. "I'll talk to you later."

"Be careful, Sammy," Dean says then hangs up the phone. It takes him a while to find Bobby's Aztec books, and he also looks through his father's journal for any mention of Mixcoatl or Aztec gods.

 

Dusk has finally fallen and Jimmy walks up to them and sits down. He's super excited and is barely able to sit still.

"Are you ... okay?" Sam asks.

"He's here," Jimmy whispers.

"Who?" Sam whispers back.

"That guy I was telling you about earlier." He points to the large gathering at the main sitting area. There are several people sitting around, drinking, talking, and laughing. There appears to be a man who has the group captivated with a story, and off to the side, clearly not with the group, but watching them, is the dark haired man.

"Thanks, kid," Bobby says.

"So, what's the plan?" Jimmy asks excitedly.

"You go back to work," Sam insists.

Jimmy's face falls, but they don't back down. Bobby cocks his head towards the front desk. With a sigh the kid gets up and sulks off back to his desk. He looks back once, silently pleading, but Bobby and Sam shake their heads.

Once Jimmy is fully ensconced back behind the front desk, the hunters turn their attention to the man he'd pointed out. Bobby goes to the bar and grabs another round of drinks as Sam stores his laptop in his satchel and quickly takes it back out to the truck. He comes back and Bobby hands him his drink as they make their way over to the group in the center of the lobby.

They walk into the recounting of a hunter and his recent kill. The man Jimmy pointed out is still sitting quietly sipping his drink and listening. Though Sam has the feeling he is only pretending to be listening and is instead preoccupied with his own thoughts.

"It was a perfect shot between the eyes. That buck didn't stand a chance. Fifteen pointer. Got his head on my wall now," the boastful hunter claims, clearly enjoying being the center of attention.

"You boys look a little out of place," a woman says from beside them on the couch. She stands up and blatantly looks Sam up and down, licking her lips suggestively. She is dressed in skin tight black leggings with a long cream colored sweater. Her hair is bottle blonde, her boots calf high and brown. A gold necklace and matching earrings adorn her as well as an expensive looking pair of sunglasses that sit atop her head holding her long straight hair back. She looks older than her clothes and hair imply.

Sam and Bobby flash their badges and Bobby introduces the pair of them.

"I'm Carroll," she says, holding out her hand to Sam, clearly ignoring Bobby. "What can I do for you fine gentlemen of the law."

"We are looking into the death of three hunters that were regulars here at River Hills," Sam says. Bobby discreetly nudges Sam and he see's the man that had been sitting somewhat off by himself look at them and get up and walk away.

Carroll follows their gaze and waves him off, dismissing him. "Don't worry about him. He's still sour."

"Sour?" Bobby prompts.

"Oh, he had helped put in the entrance money for Daryl's next competition," Carroll says. "Now he won't get his share of the winnings, and he's out the deposit too. Didn't get a full refund."

"You are sure Mr. Fisher would have won?" Sam asks.

"Hell yeah," a man pipes up. It is the one who had been telling the story about shooting the buck. "No way Daryl would've lost."

"You are?" Sam asks, holding out his hand.

"Alex, Alex Buerle," he says, shaking their hands. "This here's my wife, Cybill."

"Ma'am," Bobby says.

"Do any of you know of anyone who had anything against Daryl?" Sam asks.

"I thought it was an accident," Cybill says, looking at her husband confused.

"No way those three had a hunting accident," another man pipes up. He introduces himself as Burt Kang and motions to his wife, Lorna.

"We don't believe it was an accident," Bobby says. Murmurs go through the group and a few that had not spoke up broke away and began whispering to others in the lodge.

"So much for discretion," Sam mouthed to Bobby who shrugged.

"No one had a beef with those boys," an older gentleman says from next to Lorna on the couch. "Bit of friendly competition, bit of boasting when the drinks flowed. Everyone does that."

"They weren't always crack shots," a voice says from behind Sam and Bobby. They turn around, noticing the group they had been speaking to give the man an odd look and go back to their stories and alcohol. Clearly they don't care for anything this man has to say. He is older, late fifties or so, well worn pants and plaid shirt, a bit of scruff on his chin.

"That so ...," Bobby prompts for his name.

"Willis Harfield," he says, very obviously not offering his hand.

Bobby motions for Willis to follow them to the bar area and asks what he'll have and orders three burbon neats when told. They move to a table in a corner of the bar area and sit down.

"So, what did you mean they hadn't always been crack shots?" Sam asks.

"Well Daryl, he was the real deal. Shot like he was one with that bow of his. Then, about six months ago he broke his right arm and dislocated his right shoulder." Willis drains his drink and Bobby waves for another. "Got that cast off and could barely pull the stabilizer back to shoot. He started practicin’ in private, not wantin’ anyone to see he couldn't shoot, but Maxwell, guess he saw him. I overheard them arguing. Maxwell wanted his money back that he put down for this year's competition. Daryl refused and walked off. Next day he was hittin’ bullseyes again like he ain’t never been hurt."

Bobby and Sam share a look. "When was this ... miraculous recovery?" Sam asks.

"Miraculous is right," Willis mutters, nodding his head. He scratches at the stubble on his chin as he thinks. "Was about three or four weeks ago, I think."

"What about Steve and Hank?" Bobby asks.

"Those boys," Willis scoffs. "They been followin' in Daryl's shadow since they could crawl. But they didn't have Daryl's talent. And poor Hank couldn't hit the broadside of a barn. Steve had a little talent, could at least hit a target once in a while."

Sam leans forward, a confused look on his face. "We were told all three of them were expert marksmen."

"They were, there towards the end," Willis confirms. "Come to think about it, they all got good 'round the same time Daryl started that miracle recovery."

Bobby and Sam share a significant look.

"Thank you," Sam says, standing up. Bobby follows suit. Willis tips his head and lifts his glass in thanks for the alcohol.

"Well, that was insightful," Sam says to Bobby as they meander through the lobby looking for Maxwell.

"You think they got their hands on some mojo and it backfired?" Bobby asks.

"Nothing comes without a price." Sam stops and points across the lobby. "There's the shop. Let's see how many of these talismans they've sold."

They walk into the shop and look around. There is a lot of camouflage, some shirts with the River Hills Lodge name and logo on them, as well as other necessities for being out in the elements hunting.

"May I help you?" a young woman asks from behind them. Her name tag reads 'Melinda'.

"Yes," Sam says. "I am Agent Nobel and this is Agent Barnes from the FBI." They flash their badges. "We were wondering if you sell any of these necklaces?" Bobby holds it up for her to inspect.

"Where did you get this?" Melinda asks, somewhat upset.

"Do you sell these?" Sam repeats, ignoring her question. She gives him a dirty look.

"Sort of." She walks over to a display near the cash register and points to row after row of gold and silver bow and arrow charms on leather cords.

Bobby hold theirs up to the others and notices the metal is different. "Bronze, you think?" he asks Sam.

"Yes, the one you have is bronze," Melinda says, folding her arms over her chest.

"You recognize it," Sam says, pointing between the girl and the charm in Bobby's hand.

She nods. "It was Daryl's," she confesses. "These are all cheap knock offs of that one."

"How do you know Daryl?" Bobby asks.

Melinda rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Some detectives you are. I'm Hank's sister. I've known Daryl and Steve since I was born. This rate you'll be lucky to catch who killed my brother and his friends."

"So if Daryl didn't get this here, where did he get it?" Sam asks, ignoring her cheap shot.

"I don't know, exactly. One day a couple years ago he shows up with it around his neck." Melinda shrugs.

"What about Hank and Steve?" Bobby asks.

"About a month or so ago, Hank shows up at Sunday dinner with it around his neck, proud as can be."

"Thank you," Sam says respectfully. "I am sorry for your loss."

Melinda stays silent, but nods her thanks as she goes back to work - some of the air seems to have gone out of her sails and she just looks sad now. The men leave and hear her blow her nose in the background.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Keep an eye out for Maxwell," Sam says, scanning the lobby. His phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket and notices it's Dean. He taps Bobby to get his attention and quickly moves to a semi-secluded wall with little traffic.

"Dean, did you find anything?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, I think so," Dean says, a little uncertain of himself. "You and Bobby are research pros, I'm not used to being on this end and I gotta say I'm not enjoying it at all." The sound of books tumbling to the floor comes through. Then Dean drops the phone and curse loudly. Sam can't help but laugh. Finally Dean comes back on the line. "Yeah, yuck it up chuckles."

"So, what did you find?" Sam prompts, still smiling.

"This Mixcoat guy -"

"Mixcoatl," Sam corrects.

"Whatever. HE's a badass hunter in Aztec legend. God of the Hunters, King of the Hunt, Killer of the killers type of thing. Anyways, there's a kind of spell to get improved hunting prowess."

"Like becoming expert marksmen?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. You get to be the best of the best. But it requires a blood sacrifice by the hunter. Says here he can only be killed by his own weapons – a bow or a sacrificial knife," Dean says. "Guess those guys got in over their heads."

Sam remembers seeing an Aztec knife in the owners office. "Thanks Dean, that's great." He hands up before Dean can say anything else and turns to Bobby.

"That sounded cheery," Bobby says sarcastically.

"It's the owner. He killed those three hunters. He's Mixcoatl," Sam says, moving quickly to the elevators. They come up behind Maxwell who visibly stiffens when he sees them.

The elevator dings and the three of them step on. Maxwell pushes the button for the second floor and Sam nods in approval. They ride up in silence and the two of them can practically feel his eyes boring into the back of his head.

They got off the elevator and went left towards the manager office. Maxwell followed slowly behind them then kept walking when they stopped at Mr. Hunter's office. Bobby raised his eyebrows in question, but Sam had no answer and just shrugged.

Mr. Hunter answers their knock on his door. He motions them inside and shuts the door behind them. "I thought we were going for discretion," Mr. Hunter says, clearly disappointed that his lobby is now filled with stories of the three hunter's murders.

Sam shrugs, "Some people have to share." He looks again at the walls of the office, noticing again the sacrificial Aztec knife. There is also a bow situated over the glass window that looks out over the lobby. It is a simple piece of wood with a string tied at each end. There is paint on it as well, and a few black and white feathers.

"This is quite the collection of Aztec weapons," Sam says, admiring them. He takes knife off the wall and turns it over in his hands.

"Could you please put that back," Mr. Hunter says coming around his desk quickly, hands out to take it from Sam or catch it should he drop it. "Carefully."

"Where did you get them?" Sam asks, the knife still in his hand.

"I don't know. I hired an interior decorator," Mr. Hunter says, attention still on the knife.

"That's odd, I distinctly remember you telling me earlier that they had been in your family for a long time," Sam counters.

Mr. Hunter flushes, and fiddles with his hands, picking at invisible lint or something. "It's all for show, you see." He nods out the glass behind them to the lobby below. "If I say they're mine, they add interest to me, the weapons, and the lodge.

"See, we think you killed those boys," Bobby says, stepping up next to the man.

"What?!" he cries out, holding his hands up and backing up until his legs hit his desk. "N-No. No. I didn't!"

"Then explain – truthfully this time - where you got this," Sam says, waving the knife around by two fingers.

"Okay! Look, I had to get a financial backer to open this place up and I had the idea, just no money," Mr. Hunter says, visibly sweating.

"Who is your backer?" Sam asks, stepping closer to him.

"Maxwell Dave," Mr. Hunter says on a sigh. "These are his things." He waves at the weapons on the walls. "This is really, mostly, his office."

Bobby and Sam turn and look out through the one-way glass windows, searching for Maxwell. They see him casually walking towards the exit. Thankfully, he does not see them.

"Where are the stairs?" Sam asks quickly.

"To the right, end of the hall on the right," Mr. Hunter says confused.

Sam and Bobby draw their weapons and run for the stairs. They take the stairs two at a time as fast as they can. They explode out of the stairwell. Maxwell turns and sees them and makes a run for it.

The two of them shout for people to move out of the way and the people panic when they see the guns in the hunters hands. Some run out the front doors after Maxwell. Finally Sam and bobby make it outside and look quickly left and right to see where Maxwell has taken off to. Sam sees him to the right going around the building towards the woods in the back. Sam calls for Bobby to follow him and together they chase after him.

Maxwell looks back at them before making his way into the woods. Sam is closing in while Bobby is a bit further back. At first the trees are far apart but twenty or so fee in they become thicker, the branches catching in Sam's hair and suit, slowing him down.

Finally Sam gets a break as the man trips over a hidden log and goes sprawling on the leaf covered ground. Sam steps over him, gun pointed at his head. He hears Bobby close in, catching up.

"Don't move," Sam says, gun steady.

He sits up and puts his hands up over his head.

"Why'd you run?" Bobby asks, huffing, but gun expertly trained on Maxwell's torso.

Maxwell says nothing.

"We know who you are," Sam says. "We know what you did to those hunters."

"What?" Maxwell asks, clearly confused.

"You killed those three men," Sam spits. "Sacrificed them."

"No. No I didn't. I don't know what you're talking about. Sacrifice?"

"You're the Aztec God of Hunters, Mixcoatl," Bobby says.

"You guys are crazy!" Maxwell cries, visibly paling. "Aztec God?"

"Mr. Hunter says those are your weapons in his office," Sam says, becoming a little confused himself. Usually the gods he and Dean have come across before are quick to justify themselves or gloat and confirm their true identity. The man is doing none of those things.

"That bastard!" Maxwell exclaims. "Those are his. They're his collection. He told me they have been in his family for ages." He puts his hands down. "You think an Aztec god killed Daryl?" Maxwell shakes his head. "This is just crazy."

"Shit," Sam says, realizing this man knows nothing and they were duped by Mr. Hunter. He lowers his weapon and looks to Bobby for guidance.

"He told us first they were his, then changed his story," Bobby says, then nods at Sam's unasked question if they should head back.

The two holster their guns and run back towards the lodge. They hear Maxwell call out, "You guys are serious?!" but they don't stop to answer him.

Sam and Bobby agree to pretend everything is good. Their guns are not drawn and they walk casually back into the lodge. A few of the people who had seen them run out try to ask them what happened, but they ignore everyone, intent on getting back to Mr. Hunter.

"We will tell him that Maxwell is in custody for the murders," Sam says quietly and Bobby nods in agreement. They head to the elevator and take it to the second floor and go to the owners office. They share a look, making sure the other is ready as Sam knocks on the door.

Mr. Hunter answers the door and looks surprised to see them. "Did you find Mr. Davis?"  
"He is in custody now with Sheriff Gordon," Bobby says. He and Sam force Mr. Hunter to back up as they walk uninvited into the office. Bobby shuts the door behind them.

"Well, that's wonderful then," Mr. Hunter says, still unsure as to why they are there.

"Something doesn't add up though," Sam says, walking around the room, looking again at the weapons.

"Oh?" Wh-What's that?" Mr. Hunter asks, visibly nervous.

"You just don't seem the hunting type," Sam says, running a finger over the sacrificial knife.

"I really wish you would not touch that," Mr. Hunter says, his voice no longer shaking and all signs of nervousness gone.

"So, did they not give you a proper sacrifice? Is that why you killed them?" Sam asks, once more removing the knife from the wall.

"They were not hunters," Mixcoatl spits angrily. "Not warriors, not hunters, not men worthy of my blessings."

"You killed them with their own weapons," Sam prompts, moving slowly into position. Bobby's hand makes its way to his gun and he draws it, but keeps it pointed to the floor.

"I showed them what it is to be a hunter."

Without warning Sam strikes out with the sacrificial knife. Mixcoatl blocks it easily with his forearm and knees Sam in the stomach. Sam goes down to one knee and Mixcoatl kicks the knife out of his hand and it clatters across the room. Bobby aims and shoots, the bullet lands in a kill zone on his body. It knocks the god back, but he just laughs it off. Sam scurries across the floor to the knife. Mixcoatl grabs his leg and pulls him back. The knife is just out of Sam's reach.

Bobby reaches for a weapon on the wall, grabbing an arrow and lunges for the god. He swings down with all his might, planting the arrow deep into Mixcoatl's back. He lets go of Sam and looks up in surprise. As he does his true form comes to light and he falls to the floor looking just like an Aztec warrior ready for battle.

Bobby reaches a hand out and helps Sam up from the floor.

"Thanks," Sam says, slightly out of breath. He is holding his stomach where the god kneed him.

"No problem, kid," Bobby says smiling.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Dean is more than thrilled when Sam and Bobby pull up to the house. Thankfully they bring him some pie. Once settled, they go over in more detail what went down than they had earlier on the phone.

"Have you heard from Cas?" Sam asks.

Dean shakes his head, mouth full of pie. He swallows and says, "I'm tired of being holed up here. Somethings gotta give. I want to drive, hunt, live."

"I'm sure he'll let you know when it's safe to go out," Sam says, shaking his head at his brothers unhealthy consumption of pie.

"Man, screw that," Dean says, standing up and throwing down his napkin. "I'm not going to stay cooped up like some pansy ass." He goes to the front door and walks outside.

"Here I am!" Dean yells to the sky. "Come on!"

Sam and Bobby follow him out and stand on the porch. Sam is torn between dragging Dean back inside and waiting with him to see what happens. He knows his brother is not meant to stay locked up in a house waiting. Dean is very much a 'hit first and ask questions later' type.

"Get your butt back inside, boy, before something smites you," Bobby calls.

"See? Nothing," Dean says, arms outstretched as he spins in a circle.

"I wouldn't say nothing," an Irish accented voice says from directly behind Dean.

All three hunters pull their weapons and aim them at the demon. He makes a half-ass show of putting his hands up.

"Crowley?" Dean asks, surprised. "No one called for a Crossroads demon. You lost?"

Crowley feigns hurt feelings with a hand over his heart. "Your words, Dean." He steps forward and the click of three guns being cocked is loud enough to stop his forward momentum. "Put your toys away, boys. I'm just here to talk."

"Like hell," Dean scoffs, keeping his gun trained on the demon.

With a sigh, Crowley straightens his suit and rolls his eyes. "I came alone as a sign of good faith. Also got rid of that pesky Angel over your shoulder." He motions to the roof with his head.

Dean glances at Sam who steps off the porch and looks up at the roof where an Angel in a grey suit lies dead, its wings burned into the shingles.

"One of Raphael's, I'd imagine," Crowley says, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean asks, holstering his gun. He hates that he left the demon blade in the house in his jacket. But there were three of them and only one of him, if he is telling the truth. He is confident they can take the squirly bastard if need be.

"I've come to offer my services," Crowley says, bowing with a flourish. He flashes them a devilish grin.

"No thanks," Sam says automatically.

"Boys, boys," Crowley says. "Look, I'll let you chew on it and I'll come back when you are ready to accept."

"What could a little Crossroads demon have to offer us?" Dean asks, scoffing at the very idea.

"Well," Crowley says, taking another step forward and holding his hands in front of him, "I'm the new King of Hell." With that proclamation, Crowley vanishes before their eyes.

The three hunters look to each other in utter confusion.

"Did he say ... King of Hell?" Sam asks.

 

After Crowley's visit Sam, Dean, and Bobby hit the books on the Apocalypse again and how Raphael might be making it happen. They had all agreed that that was what help Crowley was offering as evidenced by the Angel he'd killed. They were also in agreement that they'd be damned if they accepted anything from Crowley. Nothing comes without a pric– – especially from a demon.

Dean had prayed to Castiel a couple of hours ago and is still waiting for him to respond. He paces while the other two do more research. He is sick to death of books and being the center of some psycho Angel's world ending agenda.

"Would you sit down," Bobby says, clearly annoyed. "Makin' me tired just lookin' at you."

"Where is he?" Dean asks aloud to no one in particular. "Cas! Get your feathered ass down here."

"That's i– – piss off the only Angel we can trust and wants to help you," Bobby says sarcastically.

"Patience is not his virtue," Castiel says from behind Dean.

"A damn bell! Is that so hard? Or make some noise," Dean huffs. "What took you so long?"  
"Heaven is in shambles with no clear leadership. I was helping," Castiel says, tilting his head to one side. He does not understand Dean's anger.

"Can I leave yet?" Dean whines.

"Raphael is fighting a battle in Heaven against those who do not believe he is right and is otherwise occupied," Castiel answers. "Is that all?"

"Whoa!" Dean calls out, reaching a hand out to the Angel. "What's the rush?"

"There is an all out Civil War in Heaven and I am needed."

"Can we ... well is there anything we can do?" Sam asks from across the room.

"I do not see how," Castiel says thinking, his head slightly tilted to one side. He looks preoccupied with something.

"Crowley says he's the King of Hell," Dean blurts out. He is starting the recognize the signs when Cas is about ready to disappear on them.

"Crowley?" Castiel asks confused, not recognizing the name.

"Yeah. Irish guy, bout yea tall," Dean holds his hand to his shoulder, "used to be a Crossroads demon."

"Interesting," is all Castiel says on the matter before disappearing again.

Dean growls in frustration at the Angel's lack of common courtesy. He flings himself down on the couch and sulks for a bit while Sam and bobby give him his space. They put away the books though as by Castiel's own admission it isn't likely Raphael will be by to gather Dean for his Apocalypse reboot anytime soon.

Hours go by while Bobby does what he always does and helps other hunters as their calls come in. Dean went out to tinker with the Impala while Sam got on his laptop to hunt for jobs, knowing Dean will want to hit the road soon. This is the longest they have stayed in one place in a very, very long time.

Dean is under the hood of the Impala, opening the casing from the air filter to clean it out. Nothing brings him more peace than working on his baby.

"Put any thought into my offer?" Crowley asks, scaring Dean and causing him to hit his head on the underside of the hood. Crowley's face scrunches in mock sympathy for Dean's pain. Dean lifts a wrench to swing it at the demon for scaring him.

Dean hits air and Crowley reappears on the other side of the Impala out of harms way.

"Temper, temper," Crowley tsk's.

This time Dean has come prepared and pulls out the demon blade and begins to stalk around the back of the car to get to Crowley, murder in his eyes.

"The answer is no," Dean growls.

"Now, now," Crowley says, a little nervous as he creeps backwards keeping the car between them. "You need my help and I need yours." The admission has the effect Crowley wanted as Dean halts his forward movement.

"You," Dean points to Crowley, "need our," he points to himself, "help?" He can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. "Oh that's rich."

"Hey," Crowley says, clearly vexed by the laughter. "It's not like I want this. But our goals are not mutually exclusive." 

"Oh yeah?" Dean says, not buying his brand of bullshit. "What goals are those?"

"We both don't want Lucifer's cage reopened. You don't want to be Raphael's kibble and I don't want Lucifer to get loose again."

Dean narrows his eyes. "What's in it for you?"

Crowley lets out a short burst of laughter. "Bit obvious, isn't it?" When Dean shows no sign of comprehension he rolls his eyes. "I keep my cushy job as King of Hell and you get the satisfaction of knowing there will be no Apocalypse."

Slowly Dean takes one step, then another. He knows there is a catch. There is always a catch. Doubly so because Crowley was a Crossroads demon in the recent past. He knows his deals and knows how best to come out on top all shiny.

"What's the catch?" Dean finally asks.

"You wound me," Crowley says, feigning his feelings being hurt by the very idea.

"Stop moving and I'll do more than wound you," Dean says, flashing the deadly dagger in the sun's light.

"So barbaric," Crowley mutters under his breath. "Look. You get your happy little life and, maybe, once in a while you ... look the other way."

"No," Dean says vehemently. "No way."

"What's one or two demons when compared to your freedom and the safety of millions of people," Crowley says. "Unless, of course, you've been house broken." He pulls a disgusted face.

Dean slides over the trunk to the other side of the Impala, fully intent on slamming the blade as far as it will go into that weasely demon. Instead the bastard pulls another disappearing act and he swings at air. He growls in frustration, kicking out at the gravel on the ground. Taking a deep breath, Dean looks up at the burnt-on impression of wings on the roof. Sam and Dean had buried the body earlier.

Later, Dean would say he never gave Crowley's offer a second thought, but that would be a lie. He did think about it there, next to the Impala as he stared at what he only thought of as Angel shackles. But Castiel had told him that Raphael was too busy in some internal Angel war to worry about Dean right now. After all, no Angel had come to avenge the other's death. Neither had one come to cart him away or take over his position while he stood out here working on his ride.

"Screw him," Dean says aloud, putting the knife back in his belt.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

As soon as Dean had put the Impala back together, he and Sam had hit the road. They tried not to notice how disappointed Bobby looked as they said their goodbyes. But the open road calls to Dean and he can't sit still any longer. They take off in a crunch of gravel and hit the road for wherever the next job takes them.

For a brief moment, Dean wonders where Cas is, what he's doing, and if he's alright. The Angel has wormed his way into Dean's heart, becoming one of the few people he'd give his life for.

Then there is Sammy. He spares a quick look at his brother. He turns the volume down on the radio for him – not something he would do for just anyone else. But he is worried about Sam. He had spent time in Hell with Lucifer, whether he can remember it or not. That has to do something to the kid's head. And, if he is to be completely honest with himself, he doesn't entirely trust Sam. No fault of his own, really, but Dean is too used to being used by other beings or his brother being used to further their agenda. He's worried his brother is unknowingly furthering Lucifer's agenda – whatever that might be. No matter what happens though, Dean swears to be there for Sam.

"Looks like we've got two options here," Sam says, breaking Dean out of his melancholy thoughts. "There's a possibly ritualistic murder in a town called ... Riverside, Ohio. Or it looks like there's some demon activity just south of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

"Oklahoma it is," Dean says smiling, over joyed to be on the road again. "Send a message to Crowley tied in a bow," he mutters.

"A message to Crowley?" Sam asks, confused. Dean tells him about Crowley's last visit while he was out working on the Impala and the offer he'd made as well as his response to it. "So this is sort of a snub to Crowley, going after this demon."

"Well, yeah," Dean says, confused as to why Sam sounds like that's a bad thing. "This demon, I don't think he takes no for an answer. But, if we go and off this demon ... actions speak louder than words."

"Okay," Sam relents. He makes a call to Bobby about the body in Ohio and lets him know where they are headed.

Energized after being cooped up in Bobby's house for so long, Dean drives straight through to Oklahoma, with as few stops as possible. He pulls up to a ratty motel just outside the town off the highway. Dean waits in the car while Sam rents the room. Coming out of the office Sam points to the end of the building and Dean goes and parks. They pull their bags out of the trunk and go into the room.

It's not the worst room they've ever stayed in, but the walls are stained as is the carpet. Dean is sure if he pulls back the puke green covers there would be stains there too.

"So, what do we have going on in the demon department?" Dean asks, sitting at the small table. They'd stopped up the road for some food and he is ravenously hungry. The wrapper on his burger crinkles and he takes a huge bite. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Looks like there are a couple of reports of smelling rotten eggs -"

"Sulfur," Dean interrupts, though his mouth is full.

Sam gives him a look, but nods, "Looks like one of the victims reported not knowing what came over him." Sam quotes from the local paper. "I was angry that this guy hit my mailbox. Then this black cloud came over me and next thing I know I'm beating him to a pulp."

"Sounds like our demon," Dean says, taking a drink of beer.

Sam nods again, then looks at the screen reading further. "Looks like he's no longer possessed though. He's in jail awaiting a hearing."

"guess we're going to jail too," Dean says smiling.

They agree to stay the night at the hotel and hit up the jail in the morning. Sam seems to have no problems nodding off, but Dean finds he can't keep his mind quiet enough to fall asleep.

The sound of a branch breaking outside makes Dean shoot straight up in bed. HE reaches under his pillow and draws his gun and the demon blade. He hears someone attempting to walk quietly on the gravel of the parking lot.

Slowly and quietly as he can Dean makes his way to the window. Using the blade and keeping to the side, Dean barely moves the curtains to see what is going on. At first all he sees is a cat. But then two men in grey suits come into view as they circle his Impala. They not to each other then turn to look at the room. Quickly Dean drops the curtain and makes his way over to Sam.

"Sammy," Dean whispers, reaching a hand out to shake him. Sam sits up groggy but wakes up instantly the moment he see's Dean's face. "Two Angels," Dean whispers. They make their way to their bags to trade out weapons for the angel blades.

Just as they have the blades in hand, the door is kicked open and the two Angels come in, smiling mischievously.

Sam and Dean face off the two Angels, their blades in hand. The Angels break off and one attacks each of the brothers. Sam's blade clashes against the Angel he is fighting and he throws a punch to the side. It's blocked and so Sam swings again with the blade. It rips through the grey suit but doesn't make it to the skin below. Sam quickly looks over to see Dean flat on one of the beds fighting off the Angel above him from driving the blade into his throat. Sam spins and kick out giving Dean just enough of a break to push the Angel off and get back up on his feet.

Dean kicks out and knocks the blade from the Angel's hand, then moves in quickly, slashing with his own blade. He manages to cut the Angel's arm and a flash of white light glows momentarily. The Angel then dives for his weapon and Dean lands a hard kick to his spine, making him grunt in pain. He then drives the angel blade between the fallen man's shoulder blades and the Angel dies in a brilliant light that briefly blinds the brothers.

The last Angel yells out his frustration and goes after Sam with renewed vigor, managing small cuts on Sam's arms as he tries to deflect the assault. Dean turns and sees his brother backed against the wall and throws the blade, tip over hilt, and it lands solidly in the back of the Angel's skull. He too goes out in a flare of Holy Light.

Sam slowly lowers his arms, breathing heavily and gives his brother a small smile and a nod of thanks. Dean goes over and helps Sam up off the floor.

Groaning and inspecting his wounds, Sam says, "Guess Cas was wrong about Raphael."

Dean just grunts and goes to the sink in the bathroom for some towels and water. Sam sits on the edge of one of the beds as Dean pulls out their first aid kit. He cleans his brothers wounds in silence before collapsing onto the other bed.

"We should put up wards," Dean says tiredly. The adrenaline from the fight is dissipating and he can't stifle the yawn that escapes.

Together they ward the small hotel room against Angels. Dean suggests adding a devil trap too, just in case Crowley decides to make an appearance as well. They both then turn off the lights and lay down, silently agreeing to deal with the Angel's after a few hours of shut eye. Dean adds his angel blade to the arsenal under his pillow.

"That wasn't a capture mission," Dean says into the dark, knowing Sam isn't asleep yet.

"He just needs your soul, right?" Sam asks, turning on his side to face Dean's bed. "They kill you. You go back to Heaven. Then he can do his ritual again."

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "I guess." But he is not wholly convinced. It felt different. It felt like they wanted them dead, not just to be used elsewhere.

It takes a while, but eventually the pair of them fall off to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The morning comes all too quickly on the heels of the night and Dean wakes up to find Sam is in the shower already. Dean rubs his eyes to see the bodies of the Angels are gone, the only evidence of them ever being there is a pair of Angel wings burned into the walls and floor.

Sitting up Dean is startled by someone sitting at the small table next to the window. Thankfully it is just Castiel and he hand releases the weapons under his pillow.

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel says, not taking his eyes off the curtains. Though it is obvious he is listening to something Dean cannot hear.

"Hey, Cas. What's going on?" Dean asks, coming to sit next to him.

"We are losing," Castiel says, sounding defeated already. "Most of my garrison is gone, and a lot of Angels have either gone over to Raphael or are in hiding."

"I'm sorry man," Dean says sincerely, laying a comforting hand on Castiel's shoulder. He truly does feel sorry for him. "Is there anything we can do?"

Castiel stares at Dean for a moment and some unnameable emotion crosses his face before he looks away and shakes his head. "I fear ... I fear this will not end well."

"Hey Cas," Sam says from the bathroom door, surprised to see the Angel. "How'd you get in here?" Sam motions to the wards on the walls and door.

"I've found since resurrecting Dean a second time I always know where he is," Castiel says.

Dean squirms in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "Always?"

Castiel shakes his head. "I have to concentrate on you to have a clear idea." That seems to put Dean a little at east. However, Sam seems perturbed by the idea, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. He would rather speak with Dean about the implication in private.

"I came to warn you that you both are in danger, but it seems I may be too late," Castiel says, motioning to the Angel wings burned on the floor.

"We know that already," Dean says with a cocky smile.

Turning to look at the brothers, Castiel realizes they are not giving his words much weight. "It is not just Raphael anymore," he says intensely. "There is a faction now who wants to kill the both of you." 

"What?" Dean asks, surprised. "Why? What's Sammy got to do with anything?"

"They think that Sam is Lucifer walking the Earth free of his bonds."

"That's ridiculous," Dean scoffs, looking at Sam. But instead of sharing his disbelief at the notion, Sam looks very concerned. "There's no way," Dean insists. "You checked him yourself."

"But it makes sense," Sam says solemnly. "They don't know for sure I am not. Ang really, Dean, I have no memory of coming out of that cage. I mean, who knows what happened."

"No," Dean persists. "There's no way. I'd know if you weren't my brother. I'd know."

"Lucifer could be using Sam's memories or even allowing him full control as he waits -"

"Stop!" Dean yells, interrupting Castiel and standing up. "What's wrong with you two?"

"Dean," Sam says calmly, trying to reason with him. "You have to admit -"

"I have to admit nothing," Dean says. "Sammy, come on. You can't believe this."

"I don't know what happened," Sam says, truly frightened of the idea. However, he refuses to let his fear keep him from facing the facts.

"Cas, man, you said he was fine." Dean turns pleading to Castiel now.

Sighing, Castiel looks at Dean. He can see the raw pain on the man's face at the mere thought that his brother might be in trouble. That compassion just reaffirms to Castiel that he was right to put his trust and faith in this human. With all his faults, he is the truest and most loving human Castiel has come across in a long, long time. Theirs is a life of pure sacrifice. They have only each other. Their mother and father are gone and they have devoted their lives to saving others. They are truly selfless, despite what Dean might outwardly portray. That one look seals Castiel to them and he silently vows to keep them safe from harm.

"I still believe Sam is himself, fully and without Lucifer's influence," Castiel says finally. Dean's shoulders visibly relax and he runs a hand over his face. "I do not claim to know how he came back from Lucifer's cage, but I have faith that it was not Lucifer's doing."

"What the hell, man," Dean says, already tired of the ups and downs in this one conversation. "So ... tell them they're wrong."

"I wish it were that simple," Castiel sighs.

"They don't believe him," Sam says, a bit of doubt comes through, despite Castiel's earlier reassurance that he is not possessed by the Devil himself.

"No, they do not," Castiel confirms.

"So what ... they're sending Angel's to kill him?" Dean asks, visibly upset by this turn of events. He can handle people and creatures after him, but not when they target Sammy.

"The both of you," Castiel corrects. "They want you out of the way too, Dean, so that Raphael cannot open Lucifer's cage and release Michael."

"Wait, this doesn't make any sense," Dean says, pacing a small area on the floor. "If they kill me, then I go to Heaven and Raphael gets what he wants anyway."

"No," Castiel says softly. This part pains him and caused a great fury within him when he learned what some of his brothers and sisters had done. "You both ... your souls have been barred from Heaven."

"Is that really possible?" Sam questions.

"Some very powerful and influential Angels have decreed that neither of you are to gain access to Heaven," Castiel says, sorrow in his voice.

"Whatever," Dean says throwing his hands up in defeat. "I don't care right now because I don't plan on dying, again, anytime soon. So. We've got a demon here in town to send back to Hell and you've got a war to fight." Castiel lowers his head and nods. Dean walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "And you will win."

Castiel gives a wan smile but shakes his head. "Dean, I do not think -"

"Shut up," Dean says sharply. "if you don't believe it then you have already lost."

Abruptly Castiel stands up and throws his arms around Dean and gives him a tight hug, smiling. Sam laughs softly, but can't hold it back when Dean glares at him. After a few moments longer than any hug between two men should have lasted, Castiel lets go and steps back, a radiant smile on his face.

"You are a good human," Castiel smiles, going in for another hug.

"Whoa there," Dean says, holding the over-affectionate Angel at arms length. "Alright, enough already." He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, you go fight your war and let us know if we can do anything to help. We'll do our thing down here."

Castiel nods, smiling as a renewed sense of purpose fills him. And in the blink of an eye, he vanishes.

"We need an Angel alert system," Dean sighs, sitting down at the table.

Sam has sobered up from the moment of brevity and looks solemnly at Dean. Despite what Castiel says, Sam cannot help but wonder if the other Angels are right. Could he truly be walking around oblivious to the fact that Lucifer is hiding out inside of him? He wishes briefly that he could remember what had happened and how he'd gotten out.

"I'm taking a shower," Dean announces and heads to the bathroom.

Sam half-heartedly acknowledges that and sits down with his laptop. He begins searching for anything on Angel possession. He isn't sure if it works like demon possession or if there is a different set of rules altogether for it. He knows already that Angels cannot possess someone without consent, but Sam had consented. He'd said 'yes' to Lucifer. What he needs to know is if that consent extends through death and subsequent resurrection. Or if Sam had even really died when he fell into the cage. Sam hopes he will get a chance to talk to Castiel privately, sure that if anyone would know it would be him.

Dressed in their suits, Dean and Sam drive into Glenpool, Oklahoma, checking out the town as they make their way to the police station in the one stoplight downtown area. Dean parks on the street and Sam hands him his fake credentials. Dean flips it open and looks at it, scoffing.

"A doctor?" he asks quietly.

"Thought it would be more believable since the buy doesn't remember beating the other person to death," Sam answers. He lets Dean see his.

"Finally putting that schooling to use, huh?" Dean smiles.

They walk into the police station and up to the front desk. An older gentleman is there and he looks like he's lived a life out in the sun, his hair white and his skin deeply lined.

"May I help you?" he asks in a gravelly voice.

"Yes," Sam says, taking the lead. He pulls out his card. "We're here to see Mr. Zimmer."

The seasoned cop looks closely at the card and back up at Sam, eyeing him. "And him?" he nods in Dean's direction. 

Dean pulls out a card of his own and hands it to the man. "Dr. Ross," he says introducing himself.

With a huff the man gets up and walks away, leaving the two of them at the front desk. Dean rocks back on his heels while he waits. Sam gives him a look clearly telling him to stop.

After ten minutes or so, the old cop comes back and sits at his station, not saying a word. Another cop comes out the door to their right, younger and smiling.

"Mr. Karnes, Dr. Ross?" the cop asks, verifying. Sam and Dean nod. "I'm Sheriff Randal Manchester." He extends his hand and they all shake. What can I do for you boys?"

"We're here to see Mr. Zimmer," Sam says. "I am his legal counsel."

Sheriff Manchester makes a confused face. "He's already got a court appointed lawyer." The Sheriff is being good-natured, but the brothers have clearly thrown him for a loop.

"I've been hired by the family," Sam says, realizing he didn't take time to look into the victim and learn as much as he could about him. He had been preoccupied, to say the least.

The Sheriff shakes his head and laughs. For a moment Sam's stomach drops to his feet. "Mother's," the Sheriff says shaking his head, "they always believe the best of their sons."

Stifling a sigh of relief, Sam just nods. "May we meet with him?"

"What's the Doc for?" Sheriff Manchester asks.

"I would like him to evaluate Mr. Zimmer," Sam answers vaguely.

"Loony defense?" eh asks conspiratorially. Sam says nothing but just raises his eyebrows. The Sheriff holds up his hands in defeat. "Wait here, I'll get him to a secure room then bring you boys back."

The thank the Sheriff then sit in two of the five chairs in the small lobby until they are called back. The elderly cop eyes them over the desk but says nothing. Dean smiles and waves. Sam smacks him on the arm.

"Ow," Dean complains in a whisper. Sam gives him a look to quit it.

"A psychologist?" Dean whispers. "At least you kind of know what you're doing."

Sam opens the folder he brought with him. On it are questions for Dean to ask the victim. Dean reads through them and snickers at a few of them which earns another stern look from both Sam and the cop at the front desk.

Finally Sheriff Manchester comes back. "This way," he motions, holding the door open for them. "Down and to the right," he says, guiding them to a small room with a little window in it. Using the keys on his belt, the Sheriff unlocks the door. "Just knock when you're done."

The brothers walk in and the door shuts loudly behind them. Dan Zimmer sits at the metal table in the middle of the small, bare, brick room. There are two hard metal chair opposite the man. He is hunched in on himself, making him seem small and somewhat pathetic. His light brown hair is dirty and hasn't seen water or a comb for a few days. He is in a yellow jumper with Osage County in bold black letters across the back of it. Mr. Zimmer looks up at them as they enter. His eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot.

"Mr. Zimmer?" Sam confirms. The man barely nods. "I am Mr. Karnes, your lawyer, and this is Dr. Ross."

"Like I told the Sheriff, my mother can't afford a lawyer," Mr. Zimmer says in a defeated tone. "I'll stick with the court appointed lawyer."

Sam nods but sits down across from him and Dean follows suit. "I understand," Sam says sympathetically. "We know you didn't do it."

Dan Zimmer's head pops up and he looks at them, completely shocked. "But I did," he says. "The blood. It was ... all over." Tears spring into his eyes. "And I was standing over him when ...," he breaks off, unable to continue.

"The black smoke you mentioned," Dean prompts. "Was it thick and smelled awful?"

A flicker of hope blooms in Dan's eyes for a moment, but he quickly shakes his head. "It was just my imagination," he insists.

"Can you just go over the events again? Even the parts you think you imagined?" Sam asks, keeping his voice level and soft.

"I told you, I'm staying with the court appointed lawyer," Dan says.

"This is pro-bono," Dean asserts.

"Really?"

"Really," Sam says. "So, can you tell us what happened?"

Sighing, Dan goes to use his hands expressively, only to have them jerked to a sudden stop by the chains binding them. It seems seeing himself chained there in that room shows him that he's literally got nothing left to lose.

"My house sits at the middle of a very sharp curve," Mr. Zimmer starts. "It's too sharp to take any faster than twenty-five, maybe thirty miles an hour. Yet, people do it anyway. There are all the warning signs the county can think to put up – speed signs, sharp curve warnings, yellow arrows telling you which way it curves – you know?" Sam and Dean nod their understanding. "It never fails that once or twice a year someone takes the curve too fast and ends up knocking down my mailbox and landing in the ditch next to my driveway."

Mr. Zimmer is quiet for a minute, shaking his head of his internal thoughts. Dean goes to say something but Sam kicks him under the table and gives a barely noticeable shake of his head. Sam understands that Dan is gathering his broken and mis-matched thoughts, trying to piece it all together.

"This guy, he comes barrelling down the street. I can hear him coming. One of those loud mufflers. Hate those things. But I was outside trimming some bushes," Dan says. Sam nods and motions for him to continue.

"I had just replaced my mailbox – third time this year – last month," he sighs. "And of course, this guy takes the turn too quickly in this wanna-be super car and plows down my mailbox and lands in the ditch." Mr. Zimmer closes his eyes for a moment. "I turn off the hedge trimmer and start moving towards him when this ... rage takes over."

"The black could you mentioned," Dean says. "Was that before or after the feeling of rage?"

Dan shakes his head. "There can't have been a physical black cloud ... right?" He sounds so uncertain of himself and what happened.

"Did you smell anything?" Dean asks softly. This man killed another human being with his bare hands while possessed by a demon. Dean recognizes that Dan is on some pretty shaky mental ground, but they need to be sure what they're dealing with.

"Um, the car exhaust," Dan says trying to remember. "Some burned rubber, and I think he had some rotten eggs in his car."

Dean hides his mouth with a hand and silently says the word 'sulfur' to Sam who just rolls his eyes at his brother.

"Then what happened?" Sam asks, motioning for the man to continue on with his story.

Dan takes a deep breath. "You're going to think I'm crazy." The brothers stay quiet, afraid anything they say will make him clam up. After a minute or so he looks up at them, his eyes pleading for them to understand what he is going to say next. "There was a black cloud. Not like a rain cloud or anything. It was like smoke and ... an it came right for me." He closes his eyes and shudders at the memory. "It went in my mouth," Day says softly.

Sam and Dean share a knowing look. Dean makes to say something but Sam shakes his head.

"Then it was like ... I couldn't control myself. It was like someone else was in control of my body. I went to the car and pulled the guy out." Tears fall from the man's closed eyes. "He was thanking me for helping him. Next thing I know there's a voice in my head. Laughing. And my hand shoots out and hits him. I couldn't stop it. I just kept hitting him and I kept laughing. Not in my head, but it was my voice. I was laughing, but it wasn't me!"

"We believe you," Sam says quietly. Dan looks up at them quickly, extremely surprised.

"You do?"

Sam and Dean nod.

"They all think I'm crazy," Mr. Zimmer says, motioning with his head to the cops outside.

"This black smoke," Sam says carefully, "did it ... leave?"

"Yeah," Dan says, nodding. "After I heard the crack – they say I broke his neck – after that, the smoke left and kind of ... drifted away." He takes a few deep breaths. "That sound," he whispers. "I'll never forget that sound."

"In what direction?" Dean asks seriously.

"What? Oh, um, towards town I think," Dan says confused. "Does that mean something Doctor?"

"Doctor?" Sam kicks Dean under the table again. "Oh. Right. Yeah. It um ... it means you didn't do it. Your alter-ego did."

"Alter-ego?" Dan looks as Dean skeptically. "So did I do it?"

"We'll get back to you on how we want to proceed," Sam says quickly, standing up. Dean follows suit and knocks on the door to be let out.

"My hearing is tomorrow," Dan says, slightly panicked and feeling as though nothing actually got accomplished in their meeting.

"Don't worry, we'll be there," Dean says with a smile.

One of the other officers let them out, leaving Dan Zimmer sitting chained and thoroughly confused. They thank the officer and the Sheriff for letting them speak to Mr. Zimmer and leave the station. On the way out the old cop at the front desk gives them a scowl.

Outside they climb into the Impala. "Where to now?" Dean asks.

Sam shrugs. "The demon could be anywhere inside anyone in this town."

"That old guy looked suspicious," Dean says, looking back towards the station. He swears that old man's beady little eyes are still on him.

"Only because you were staring at him," Sam shakes his head. "Next time we get a more believable cover for you. You suck at being a psychologist.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Dean pulls up to a little Mom and Pop diner and parks the car. "Poor guy though. Wonder why the demon is people-hopping."

The step out of the car and walk into the diner. Sitting down in an out of the way booth, Dean grabs the menu to look it over while Sam pulls out his laptop to do a bit of research.

"Maybe it's trying to cause havoc in the town," says Sam.

"We don't need none of that," a plump older woman says from beside them, a smile on her face. "Name's Vivian. What'll you boys have?"

Dean orders his usual bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a slice of pie while Sam orders a salad. The waitress smiles and says it'll be right up, then walks off to put the order in.

"What do you think she meant?" Sam wonders.

Dean shrugs. Their food comes quickly and Dean digs in while Sam types away on his laptop. He gains access to the counties police records and begins looking for any demon-like activity starting a couple weeks before Dan Zimmer's incident. There isn't much, some domestic disputes, a DUI, and a few drunk and disorderlies. Nothing that really screams demon to him.

As he flicks through, he notices a name that keeps popping up. A Denise Striker, thirty two and is currently wanted by the local police. Sam waves to get Dean's attention.

"Listen to this," he says. "Oh wow, this wasn't here a minute ago. Denise Striker is wanted for burglary, child endangerment, and the death of her husband. Also, apparently, just a few hours ago she evaded police and struck an officer. Says here in the notes that friends and family say this isn't like her, that she seemed to change overnight."

"Sounds like she might be our demon," Dean agrees. "They say where she was last seen?"

"Um," Sam reads further in the report. "Looks like the assault on the officer happened just down the street from here."

Dean motions that they should pack up. He throws some money on the counter and they leave quickly. Climbing into the Impala, Dean asks, "Got a picture?"

Sam pulls up the police wanted picture and shows it to Dean. She is short according to the report, but pretty. Her hair is shoulder length, straight, and dirty blonde. He drives down the street to where Sam says the assault happened. There is a cop parked there and they wave as they slowly drive by. An alley leads off to the right where the cop was assaulted and Dean drives around to the back of the shops to see where it leads out at.

"There," Sam exclaims, pointing at a window above a shop. By the time Dean leans over to look, there is no one there. "I saw her in the window," Sam insists.

Dean pulls the car over and they get out. There is an access ladder in the back alley. Dean takes out the demon blade, keeping it close to his thigh and takes the stairs two at a time, Sam close on his heels, gun in his hands, but still concealed.

Stopping at the door, Dean looks at his brother who nods that he is ready. Reaching out to the doorknob, Dean slowly turns it. The door opens and he goes inside quickly. The apartment looks to be that of a young woman, tidy and neat, soft cushions on the couch and a few paintings on the wall. There are a few pictures of the mother and her little son on the side table. Dean points them out to Sam who nods. There is no sound coming from inside the apartment. Sam quietly closes the door behind him. Dean pulls out his gun and begins making his way through the apartment.

The kitchen is visible from the living room and a hall goes off to the left. Together they move towards the hallway. All the doors in the hall are closed. They come upon the first one on the left and Sam moves to the otherside. He quickly grabs the knob and opens it up. A cursory look shows it is empty. A silent rage fills Dean as he sees the room is that of the little boy in the pictures. There are a few drops of blood on the floor and bedspread.

They move to the next door on the right, which ends up being the bathroom. Sam silently gets Dean's attention and points to the floor. There are drops leading to the end of the hallway and the last door. Again Sam moves to the other side and opens the door quickly.

Inside is the demon in Diane's body, knife to the throat of the young boy. The mother is tied up in a chair, tears streaming down her face as she pleads with her eyes for the brothers to help.

"Well hello," the demon says, smiling silkily. She looks them up and down then licks her lips. The mother whimpers from behind the gag tied over her mouth.

"Let him go," Dean says between clenched teeth, gun pointed at her head.

"Ooh," she purrs, "forceful. I like that." The demon crouches down behind the kid, knife tip moving to his jugular. "They want to say you and your mom," it whispers in the boy's ear. Tears stream down his face as he tries as hard as he can not to move. There is blood on his shirt collar and he's been nicked by the blade more than a few times already.

"Beg them to save you," the demon taunts, laughing when the kid chokes back a sob.

"P-please," he says in a tiny, scared voice.

"Enough!" Dean yells, already sick of the demons twisted games. She stands up and Dean shoots her in the left shoulder, causing the blade to clatter to the floor.

Sam motions for the boy to come to him and he quickly takes him out of the room and tells him to go hide until it's over. The boy looks back at his mother who cries out and he runs.

With the human shield gone, Dean moves in quickly with the demon blade to destroy the demon. Diane's mouth opens and the demon escapes in a thick black cloud. It shatters the bedroom window as it leaves. Dean looks at Sam, anger in his face.

Sam goes and unties the mother who quickly thanks him before going after her son. Diane lies unconscious but alive on the floor. Sam takes the rag that was used for the gag and wraps it around the bullet wound in Diane's shoulder.

"Come on," Dean says impatiently. Everytime the demon jumps bodies it makes it harder for them to track it down again and kill it.

Back in the Impala, the brothers cruise around. A cop car and an ambulance speed passed them on their way to the apartment they had just left. Neither of them could see a black cloud anywhere, so they have no idea where it went. Frustrated, Dean hits the steering wheel.

"Maybe it left town?" Sam suggests.

"Maybe," Dean sulks. If it left town, then they would have to wait for it to leave a trail again. It almost seems to Dean as though this demon is taunting them, drawing them in for some purpose. He doesn't like the idea of that at all. They head back to the motel.

Sam turns on the police scanner and brings up the police reports, scanning any new ones that come in. Dean lays on the bed, knife held loosely in his right hand. It doesn't make sense, what the demon is doing. Usually they have some sort of purpose other than random anarchy. They cause it, sure, but mostly through manipulation of others around them. This one just seems to like causing random mayhem in the bodies it inhabits. It's leaving its victims alive to deal with the consequences.

He has to admit, chasing demons is much more 'back to normal' than their lives have been lately. Dean is sick to death of having to fight Heaven and Hell just to stay alive. He thinks back to when there was a clear line between good and evil. Now that line is so blurred as to be non-existent.

The police scanner crackles and comes to life. Dean sits up and listens. "There is a 594 in progress." It is just a simple malicious mischief call, but Sam writes the information down, the location of the incident and the description of the perpetrator. They can't know if this is their demon or not until they go and check things out.

On the way, Dean muses, "Wish we had a demon trap we could just roll out like a rug whenever we needed one." But he knows the logistics of carrying one around, even a small sized rug, was beyond their ability.

Sam and Dean park a block from where the tops were called to. They check their guns and put them in their belts. Dean also puts the knife in his pocket. Together they walk down the street and see a teenager with a Louisville Slugger hitting at anything around him; shop windows, street signs, other cars, and anything else that strikes his fancy.

"This is getting ridiculous," Dean says, disgusted at the demons choice of victims. "He's just a kid."

"What do you want to do?" Sam asks, knowing he and his brother will try everything in their power not to kill this kid.

An idea forms and Dean quickly goes over it with Sam. He goes back to the car to get a few more supplies. They go back to the corner of the building and look down the street. The cops are keeping their distance. It looks like the demon has already clocked one of them with the bat. They back up and wait for him to come to them.

They hear his humming before he turns the corner. Sam throws Holy Water on him while Dean quickly tackles him, ties him up, and throws a few punches effectively knocking the kid out. Together they toss him in the backseat of the Impala. As they pull out, a cop shouts to ask them if they've seen a teenager with a bat come by. Sam points to the alley behind the building and Dean drives away with a wave.

Backing up to the hotel room door, Sam hops out and takes a cursory look to make sure no one is watching. Then Sam opens the door. He helps Dean quickly carry the demon into their room. Just to make sure there's not much of a fuss out of him, Dean hits him again. With the demon unconscious they set him up in the middle of the demon trap and strap him to the chair. Now they wait for him to wake up.

Finally, after ten or so minutes, the demon starts to stir. It looks up at them through the teenagers green eyes and begins laughing. "Oh, you boys are somethin' aren't you," the demon says. It sounds funny coming from the teen's cracking voice when hours before it'd been the silky purr of a woman.

Sam throws Holy Water on the demon. He smokes and screams briefly before beginning to laugh again. "Sam and Dean Winchester," the demon says, naming them. "You two are not living up to the hype."

The brothers say nothing. Dean throws a little more Holy Water on him as Sam starts to recite the exorcism.

_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio._

The demon screams again. "What, no blade?" he taunts, pulling at his binding.

_Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._

"No one else finds it funny that 'ole Sam here is doing this?" the demon says, looking between them. Dean throws more Holy Water on him and motions for Sam to continue.

_Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te.  
Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aetemae Perditionis venenum propinare._

The demon screams in pain then slumps against the chair. He breathes heavily and rolls his eyes to look up at Sam. "Can you feel him?" A gleeful smile creeps over his face. "Sure you can." He nods knowingly.

"Who?" Sam asks, stepping forward. "What do you mean?"

"Don't listen to him, Sammy!" Dean says tossing more Holy Water on the demon. "Keep going." Dean has a sinking feeling he knows what the demon is taunting Sam with and he doesn't want the demon to plant that seed of doubt.

Sam looks to his brother for a moment before continuing on with the exorcism.

_Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallacie, hostis humanae salutis.  
Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribli nomine, quem inferi tremunt._

The demon leans forward and looks Sam in the eye as he smiles. "He lives in you. Walks the Earth with you. You cannot stop him!"

Dean swings and decks the demon. He hits him so hard the chair rocks back. The demon isn't phase and spits the blood in its mouth at Dean's feet.

However, Sam is truly rocked by what the demon is saying and has lost his place in the exorcism. He stares in disbelief at the demon and shakes his head. "No ... no."

"Oh, yes," the demon says. "He has come again and will rain fire upon the Earth! His wrath will be felt on every continent!"

"Sammy," Dean pleads, shaking his brother and forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Finish it!"

_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.  
Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus monis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, monis legio, monis congregatio et seeta diabolica._

The demon laughs maniacally, his head thrown back. "I will spread the word. All demon-kind will know!"

_Ergo draco maledicte et monis legio diabolica adjuramus te.  
Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aetemae Perditionis venenum propinare.  
Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos!_

Sam screams the last sentence at the demon and it leaves the body of the young teenager. The black cloud swirls around them for a moment before going down through the floor and back into Hell.

"Sammy," Dean says carefully, walking towards his brother.

"Don't," Sam says softly, holding a hand up to halt his movement. "I need some air." Without another word, Sam walks out of the hotel door, leaving Dean in the room staring helplessly after him.

Everything in Dean is screaming at him to go after his brother, but he doesn't. All Dean can hope for is that Sam realizes the demon was just trying to get a rise out of him and comes back.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The streets are dark and empty in the small town as Sam wanders, his thoughts turned inward. He knows intellectually that the demon was likely talking out its ass – but that doesn't stop the doubt that has now taken root in Sam's mind. It wiggles around like a worm in dirt and leaves holes like the missing memory of his return.

Up ahead he spots the only bar in town and goes inside. He sits alone in a corner, ignoring the looks he gets from being a stranger in a small town. The waitress attempts to flirt with him while she takes his order, but he refuses to say anything other than his drink order. Thankfully it comes quickly. He downs it in one swallow and waves the waitress down.

"Bring the bottle," he says, not looking at her. He is not seeing his surroundings. Instead he is trying to remember that brief period where he had shoved Lucifer out of his seat of control in his mind and body and had taken back over. He is pinpointing how it felt, what he thought, and how Lucifer reacted.

The bottle is placed in front of him. He looks up to say thank you to the waitress. Instead, Crowley stands before him.

"Drowning our sorrows, are we?" he asks, taking the seat across from Sam. He waves for the waitress and says, "Be a doll and bring us another glass." He smiles and winks at her as she saunters off, smiling herself.

"Go away, Crowley," Sam says darkly, in no mood for the demons games.

Clucking his tongue, Crowley pours them both a drink. "Now what could be the matter, Moose?"

Sam looks away and throws back his drink again. Pouring another, Sam knows that Crowley has heard from the demon they sent back. HE is just here to offer another eal – probably kill him too, if he can manage it. But Sam realizes he left all his weapons back at the hotel room. For some reason Sam doesn't want to acknowledge, he's okay with that.

Seeing Sam is not in the banter-type mood, Crowley lets his taunting nature go for a moment and looks at Sam, waiting for him to make eye contact. It takes a few minutes, but finally Sam does look up at the demon.

"Do you think I would let you walk around here if he was really in that thick melon of yours?" Crowley asks seriously. The demon gets up from his seat and takes one more drink. "And tell your brother you both did me a favor today." With that, Crowley vanishes leaving Sam to stew over everything.

It's early morning by the time Sam makes it back to the hotel. He is staggering drunk and it takes him a few tries to get the key in the lock. However, the door is opened from the inside by Dean.

"Thank god," is all Dean says as he helps his brother into the room. Keeping him semi-upright, Dean takes Sam to his bed and sits him down. Immediately Sam falls backwards and groans at the sudden movement.

Dean knows his brother needs to sleep off the drink, but they need to pack up and get moving before the police start looking for Mr. Zimmer's lawyer and the Doctor that was with him. While Sam dozes on the bed, Dean packs up the Impala. He waffles for a few minutes on whether or not he should throw Sam in the shower or just load him up in the car. The prospect of his brother hurling in the car makes the decision for him and he half carries the semi-conscious Sam to the hotel shower. He sets Sam on the toilet, pulls back the curtain and turns on the water as cold as it goes.

Dean turns to his brother and mutters, "Sorry Sammy." He then unceremoniously hauls Sam into the shower and pushes him under the spray, getting a little wet himself.

"Argh!" Sam yells, trying in vain to fight the water as it splashes on his face an head. He flails and Dean catches him before he falls down.

"Okay, okay!" Sam hollars, finally able to reach the knob to turn off the water. He turns, drenched to the bone, and glares daggers at his brother. "What that necessary?"

Stepping out of the tub, Dean tosses Sam a towel, laughing. "Get dressed then we're hitting the road." He put some clothes on the toilet and closes the door behind him. Dean changes while Sam is in the bathroom then goes out to wait in the Impala.

A couple of songs on the radio later, Sam comes out of the hotel room, hair still wet, and looks sourly at Dean. Sam climbs in and shuts the door gingerly, then reaches over and turns off the music. Ignoring the concerned look from his brother, Sam turns his head and closes his eyes as Dean hits the highway again.

 

Sam finally wakes up hours later. He blinks groggily, trying to get a grip on his surroundings. It seems Dean has stopped for gas, but he's not sure if they are even in Oklahoma anymore. By the look of the sun's rather bright position, it is only just after noon.

"Hey sleepy head," Dean says, climbing back into the car. He pulls out two waters from the convenience store bag and hands one to Sam. He also gives his brother and pre-packaged sandwich. He rips into his own and takes a big bite.

"Where are we?" Sam asks, rubbing his eyes. His head is killing him. Last night comes flooding back to him and he groans.  
"Heading east, not quite out of Oklahoma yet," Dean answers. He pulls the glove compartment open and hands Sam a bottle of aspirin. "How you feelin'?"

Popping the top of the pill bottle, Sam downs a couple with the water Dean gave him. He looks at the sandwich and his stomach revolts at the very idea of putting it in his mouth. Setting the sandwich aside, Sam says, "You're enjoying this too much."

Dean smiles and nods as he pulls out of the gas station. After a few miles, Dean looks over at Sam and asks seriously, "Are you okay?"

"Saw Crowley while I was out," Sam mentions, avoiding Dean's question.

"He try to get you to agree to the deal again?" Dean asks, proud they'd sent that demon back to Hell.  
"No, actually. He said Thank You," Sam says.

"Thank you?" Dean asks, confused. "Thanks for what?"

"Well, I got the impression he was pleased we'd exorcised that demon yesterday."

Dean lashes out and slams his hand on the steering wheel in anger. "That son of a ... did he say why?"

"No, not really. Just said thanks and left," Sam lies. He still hasn't decided how he feels about Crowley's admission. There is a strong possibility the demon is flat out lying to him about whether Lucifer is alive and well inside of him or not. Granted, Crowley has been trying to get Dean to work with him to make sure Lucifer never makes it back out. But the amount of times Crowley has shown up makes Sam doubt his motives. What if Crowley keeps showing up to make sure Lucifer hasn't asserted his control yet. Or worse, ensure that it does happen. King of Hell or not, Crowley is not THE Devil, just a demon with elaborate delusions of grandeur.

"You with me, Sammy?" Dean asks as though he's been trying to get Sam's attention for a while.

"Yeah," Sam says. He rubs his temples. "Sorry, just ... still hung over I think."

"Yeah, okay," Dean says, not entirely believing his brother. But he doesn't have enough information yet to force the truth out of him. "Get some more shut-eye. I'll call Bobby and see if he's got anything for us."

Sam nods and gets as comfortable as he can in the Impala. He closes his eyes, but never really falls asleep.

 

Castiel looks out over the battlefield as the war rages on. Some of his brothers and sisters choose only to fight in their true form while others choose the form of their vessels. As far as the eye can see there are Angels fighting Angels, brothers fighting brothers and sisters fighting sisters. In his heart he knows this is wrong, that God would see this and look upon them with sorrow in his eyes for how far from Grace they had fallen.

Yet, despite believing that – here Castiel is, leading an army of Angels against their family. He knows though that he does this for what is right. He does this for the humans their Father holds in such high regard.

He does this for Dean.

The battle cry of his Garrison rings out and Castiel joins them in their cry, raising his blade high above his head. As one the Garrison charges, Castiel in the front as they take another group of Angels head on. The clang of the blades can barely be heard over the prayers and battle cries of the Angels.

It seems the battle has taken years to finish and is simultaneously over in seconds. Castiel stands alone, Angels dead at his feet. His face is full of sorrow for what he has done and he prays, yet again, for his Father to come and end this useless fighting, to save his children from themselves.  
He opens his eyes once again to see his prayers have not been answered. Another battle rages far down the horizon on his right. It is there his Garrison must go – those that have lived to fight another day. It is there more Angels will die.

Every minute that the war rages on they lose more Angels. There was only ever a finite number of them. That will have an effect on Earth as well as Heaven. There will be fewer Angels to help the humans, to heal them, to renew or restore their Faith in their Father.

Suddenly Castiel is tired to his very core of the fighting among themselves. They are supposed to oppose the demons, not each other. He slumps to the grass and lays his blade own. He hears his name being called by the rest of the Garrison, urging him to stand up, to move on to the next battle. Some fear he is wounded and come to his aid to help. And he is wounded, wounded in his heart and in his Faith in his Father to help His children.

Castiel feels a few tugs on his arms from his brothers and sisters. However, he does not move, does not speak, he just sits there in peaceful silence. A barely perceptible smile graces his face as he hears a few of them sit down with him.

Here he will sit. Here he will pray. Here he will listen.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Bobby has filled Dean in on a vampire nest making and leaving a blood trail behind itself in Davenport. He told Bobby they were on it and had Sam guide them. But, Dean is exhausted. He had barely gotten any sleep the other night and they've driven all day and into the night. Dusk has come on their heels and Dean pulls off Interstate 67 North to West University Drive in a town called Macomb. They pull up to a Super 8, get a room, and go in for a little shut eye.

Dean wrestles with himself about whether he should confront Sam about what has been bothering him or if he should let it go and wait for Sam to come to him. Either way, it wasn't like Sam to go on a binge like he did. Though his brother is rather good at forcing everything he is thinking and feeling inside himself and not dealing with it. But that's who they are and what they do, isn't it, he thinks. What he really wants to do is find a way to convince Sam that he is not Lucifer's puppet.

Sam tosses and turns a few times as does Dean before they both slowly start to drift off to sleep.

 

A pillow to the face is how Dean is woke up in the morning. He flails to his feet to see Sam standing there, angry as can be, a pillow still in his hand. "What was that for?" Dean hollers. It's all he can do not to deck Sam. The only thing stopping him is the possibility that there is a good explanation for it.

"What were you looking for?" Sam asks, so angry he is visibly shaking.

"Huh?" Dean confusedly asks.

Sam turns and motions to every piece of his belongings strewn across the floor.

"I didn't do that!" Dean denies.

"Who then?" Sam asks, throwing the pillow at Dean who knocks it away easily. "The magic luggage fairies?"

"Hey, you don't know," Dean says, pointing a serious finger at his brother. "And next time, a simple question will do."

"You really didn't do this?" Sam asks, taking a good look at his brother. He realizes it could be his own paranoia coming into play. The idea of having his thoughts and fears all laid bare like his clothes frightened him and makes him defensive he realizes.

"No, I really didn't," Dean says, somewhat insulted his brother would honestly think that. "Come on, lets clean up and check out so we can make it to Davenport by noon."

Dean pitches in and helps Sam. Then they load the Impala. Sam walks off behind another couple to check out of their motel room.

"That was just the most frightened I've been in my life," the elderly woman says to her husband as they walk into the office.

"It was the margarita you had at dinner, dear," her husband says patting her hand. "You know how you get with tequila."

Sam can't help but smile at their exchange. They have probably been married for more years than Sam has been alive, yet he can tell they are still madly in love. He'd wanted that once – had nearly had the beginnings of it long ago. But that possibility was long gone for him.

"I'm telling you, Stan, it wasn't the tequilla!" his wife insists. She turns to the kid at the front desk. He looks like he's been up all night and just wants to go home. He doesn't even muster up a smile for the elderly couple. "Those lights of yours, they're not finicky, are they?"

"Maureen," her husband hisses, trying to silence her. The kid isn't paying anyone much attention and doesn't answer her.

"Sometimes lights flicker if they're not properly screwed into the socket," Sam says helpfully. The husband turns and gives him a grateful smile.

"That's not what that was," Maureen says facing Sam now. Her husband tries to take her arm again but she yanks it away and takes a step closer. "It wasn't like that at all."

The husband opens his mouth to say something to his wife, but Sam holds up his hand and smiles. "What was it like, ma'am?" Sam asks Maureen.

Seemingly overjoyed to have someone to tell her experiences to, Maureen takes him by the arm and leads him to a few seats in the lobby. She pushes him down and sits next to him, holding his hand like that of a child. Her husband, Stan, just rolls his eyes, consigned to the fact that, come hell or high water, Maureen is going to tell her tale.

"Wasn't much at first, you know," Maureen titters. "Just a light next to the bed flickering. Stan, he checked the bulb like you said. Always such a handyman. Then as I was watching my late night shows, the television flickered on and off, then went to snow for a bit before it would come back on." She says this as though it was something that had never ever happened before. But Sam and Dean had stayed in plenty of places with crappy televisions. One time, one had caught fire in their room. Sam politely motions for her to continue.

"Well, that was strange and the light was strange, but explainable I guess, like you said. But you can't tell me what happened next doesn't scare the bejeezus out of even you, Stan." She looks daggers at him as he just waves her off.

"Too much television," Stan explains to the kid behind the counter. The clerk just shrugs and rings his credit card.

"Anyway," Maureen says, turning back to Sam. "I went into the bathroom to take a nice hot bath and relax before bed." She shudders just thinking about what happened in there. "The lights in the bathroom ... they flickered on and off three times before going out completely. She turns to her husband, "Which reminds me, dear, tell the nice young man they need new bulbs in there."

"Yeah, yeah," Stan says. He turns to the clerk and jerks a thumb in his wife's direction. "See what I gotta deal with?" Sam and the kid smile, though neither say anything.

"But there I was, naked as a jaybird in a pitch black bathroom. I stood up to get out and leave. I was scared out of my wits. But just then it got so, so cold. I got goose bumps all over and the warm water in the tub at my feet even turned ice cold. Well, you better believe I yelled for Stan as loud as I could." Maureen takes a deep breath and puts her hand on her chest. "I swear, there was a ghost in there. Only explanation."

"Great," Stan says stepping up to his wife. He takes her by the hand and helps her stand. "Now that you've told your story, can we go?"

She lightly slaps Stan's shoulder. "I suppose," she says finally. "Thank you, sweetheart, for indulging an old lady," Maureen says to Sam.

"No, thank you," Sam says smiling. HE waves the couple off as they pull out of the driveway. Turning to the clerk he says, "I'd like to switch to their room please."

The clerk looks at him surprised, but does as he is asked. Sam walks back to Dean who is standing next to the Impala looking very impatient.

"What took you so long?" Dean asks grumpily.

"We're not leaving," Sam says smiling, holding up the new room key.

"We're not?"

"Nope. Seems we've got a ghost in room Three-B." Sam tosses the new room key and grabs his back from the backseat.

"And you decided to make a job of it?" Dean asks. "Without consulting me?"

"Yep," Sam says going to the trunk and packing rock salt and a few shotguns into his bag.

"And what about the vampires in Davenport?"

"Call Bobby and let him know we'll go there after this, or see if he's got someone else to cover it."

Dean stares bewildered at Sam as he goes into Three-B and stores more of their stuff. He doesn't even understand what's going on with his brother. One minute he's convinced himself that the devil is riding his coattails, and the next he's whistling Dixie chasing ghosts. Honestly, Dean feels like he's going to get whiplash from Sam's mood swings.

But, he decides to go with it and grabs his bag out of the backseat and hauls it up to their new room. It's the mirror image of the room they'd stayed in last night. Already Sam has the EMF meter out and is going over the room.

"See this?" Sam asks, turning the device to Dean.

"Could be old wiring," Dean says, waving it off. He goes to use the bathroom but the lights won't turn on despite flicking them on and off a few times.

"Oh, Maureen said the ghost blew the bulbs last night," Sam says, coming into the bathroom with the EMF. It clicks and beeps erratically, the readings going into the red. Sam doesn't say anything but he does raise his eyebrows in an 'I told you so' kind of way.

"Maureen?" Dean asks, completely confused. For a moment he truly wonders if his brother is completely off his rocker.

"Yeah," Sam says, checking the tub and giving Dean another sideways look. "I met her when I went to check us out. Nice lady. She said her and her husband were visited by a ghost last night."

"Oh, well, if two old cooks say so, then it must be true," Dean says sarcastically. He goes and sits at the small table. "So, what, we are just going to find the bones and burn them, or what?"

Sam looks over at Dean as though he is the one that has grown a second head. "Of course."

"Right, right," Dean says. "Because so many deaths in a motel are traceable. And finding the bones will just be a piece of cake. Hey! I bet they're in the cemetery behind this place."

"So what if it's a little harder?" Sam asks, shrugging. He pulls out his laptop and sets it up, immediately pulling up missing persons reports from the area and cross referencing them with the motel.

Realizing his brother is bound and determined to do this, Dean begins setting up. He makes sure their shotguns are loaded with rock salt. Dean also decides to put up Angel wards just in case, since they are going to be there for a few days.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Dean left and came back with food while Sam expanded his search. He also researched the history of the place as well as the town. All in all it seems pretty innocuous. What started out to possibly be an easy ghost hunt is slowly turning into an almost impossible task. There is no way he will admit that to Dean, however. Sam is almost tempted to go buy a Ouija board to see if they can communicate with the ghost tonight, but that would as a last resort. Night is coming quicker than Sam wants, but he can't stop it.

As dusk settles, Dean gets up and pours rock salt on the window sills and at the threshold. If it is a ghost not connected to this room, it will not be able to come in. If it is connected to this room, then it will be trapped in here.

Dean paces, shotgun in hand, alternating with a beer when he makes his way back to the table. He wonders briefly how Cas is doing and how the Angel is fairing in his war. He tries not to, but he can't help worrying about the guy. Sometimes he truly comes off as a higher being capable of so much, and other times he comes off as a goofy, slightly awkward human who has no idea how to just ... live.

It always annoys Sam when Dean paces like that. As if motion will do more than sitting and trying to figure things out. Like the fact that there were no less than three missing girls from this area. Or rather, they'd likely gone missing in this area. All three had last been seen, or known to have stayed at this motel. Sam had to broaden his search to include the entire United States just to get those three hits.

"Dean, look at this," Sam says, waving his brother over. He turns his laptop so he can see the three missing girls.

"Think it's them?"

"No way to know yet," Sam admits.

"Let's go get some breakfast," Dean says, rubbing his empty stomach. Sam agrees and they go down the street a ways until they get to a Denny's.

They sit in a booth and order their food, Dean getting enough to feed a small army, and Sam pulls up the various police reports for the women.

"Should ask the guy at the motel if he knows anything about that room being haunted," Dean says, taking a huge bite of his omelette.

Sam explains how the clerk that was there while Maureen was telling her story didn't seem phased by it at all. "Maybe he's used to hearing it," Sam says shrugging.

"That or he just really doesn't care," Dean counters.

They finish their breakfast and Sam says he wants to print off the missing girls' pictures. They find a local library and Sam goes in to quickly print, then they head back to the motel. They drop off their stuff then head to the office to speak with the clerk on duty.

As they walk up, Sam points out that there is a different clerk on duty. The one yesterday had been younger, dark hair and pierced eyebrow. This one is tall and thin with scraggly hair despite it being short and has an acne scarred face. The bell on the door chimes as they walk in and the clerk looks up from his book. "How can I help you?" he asks smiling.

Dean looks at the guys name tag and back at him smiling too. "Howie?"

The clerk nods.

"Well, Howie, we ... and this is going to sound hilarious," Dean says, lightly hitting his brother and laughing, "but my brother here swears he saw a ghost last night."

Howie, instead of laughing along or dismissing it out right just lights up. "Oh yeah? Are you in room Three-B?"

"How did you know?" Dean asks, shooting a look at Sam.

"Oh, well, lots of people who stay in that room have complaints or say it's haunted," Howie says. He grabs the book he was reading and shows the cover. On it is the title 'Ghosts and You' and two very familiar faces from the 'Ghostfacers'. Dean nearly chokes and looks at Sam who is staring wide-eyed at the book.

Finally, Sam regains his composure and says, "Can I see that?"

Howie eagerly hands it over. "Those guys are amazing!" he exclaims.

"Yeah," Dean says, rolling his eyes. He looks over his shoulder as Sam thumbs through the book. Sam opens it back up to the acknowledgement page and points to where their names are listed as 'Research Assistants'. "I'm going to kill them," Dean mutters.

"What?" Howie asks.

"Nothing, just my brother hasn't gotten this book yet," Dean lies smoothly. "I was saving it for his birthday, but ... surprise!" Dean and Sam smile at each other. "So, you really think there's a ghost in that hotel room?" Dean asks, jerking his thumb in the rooms direction.

Sam hands the book back to Howie as he nods emphatically. "Oh yeah. So, what happened to you?" he asks Sam eagerly.

Stuttering Sam shrugs. "Just ... well, all my clothes were removed from my bag."

Grabbing a pen, Howie writes down what Sam said in a notebook he has next to him. He looks up, expecting more. His face falls a little when he realizes Sam has nothing more to say. "That's it?" he asks, hoping for more.

"Well, when we checked into the room, the couple before us had flickering lights," Sam supplies. Howie scribbles it down furiously. "And she said she felt cold in the bathroom."

"I'm trying to get all this down," he says, flipping through his notebook. "Maybe if the Ghostfacers see it's really haunted they will come and do a show here."

"Great," Dean says, clearly not excited about the idea of seeing Harry and Ed again.

"Can I see that?" Sam asks, pointing to the notebook.

"Sure," Howie says, handing it over excitedly. "I've documented everything since I first started working here. It's a lot of the same stuff you said, lights flickering and stuff moved, but there have been a few times where people couldn't get back into the room for hours. The door would just shut in their face and we couldn't get it back open no matter what we tried."

Fingering through the notebook, Sam reads the sections Howie mentioned. He notes that it seems to have only happened to single women.

While Sam reads, Dean pulls out the three photos of the missing women and shows them to Howie. "Do you recognize any of these women?" he asks, handing the pictures over.

"You think one of these is the ghost?" Howie asks. At their surprised looks, he lifts the Ghostfacers book. "You need to find who the ghost is so you can find their bones and burn them."

"I really am going to kill them," Dean growls at Sam.

"Um," Howie says, pulling one picture out and looking at it closely. "This one. I think she stayed here." He squints at the picture. "Yeah. I think this one stayed here when I first started here. I remember because the cops came and questioned my manager while I was training." He hands Dean the picture and Dean shows it to Sam.

Looking at it, Sam recalls the name of the young woman as Analiese Ramella. She had been on her way to Ohio State University from Wyoming and had stopped at the motel to rest. She was supposed to pick up some friends she'd met online at a frat house in town near Western Illinois University, but had never made it. Days had gone by before she was ever reported missing. The logs at the motel say she checked out but she never made another traceable purchase after her stay at the motel.

"They all kind of look alike, don't they," Howie muses, looking at the other two pictures. "They all have dark hair and greenish eyes."

Sam quickly grabs the other photos back and looks them over. Howie is right. Their features are far from the same, but the hair and eye color are spot on. Sam berates himself for missing that small connection.

The brother's mutter their thanks and go to leave, ignoring the clerk's call for their names to that he can e-mail the Ghostfacers and use them as references.

"Can you believe the nerve?" Dean asks, venting as they make their way back to the motel room. "We taught them all that stuff. Research Assistants?! I've half a mind to call them down here just to show them who's a Research Assistant."

However, Sam isn't paying attention to anything Dean is saying. He is solely focused on the three girls and their possible connection to the motel. As soon as he's inside he cracks open his laptop and begins looking for reports of women who had been locked out of this very room.

There isn't much, but Sam managers to find two women who were locked out of Three-B. One was an older woman who used to clean for the motel and is highly superstitious. She quit shortly after the incident almost two years ago. She wrote in a forum about hauntings that she had been cleaning in Three-B when a very cold wind blew through. She wrote that invisible hands pushed and shoved her out the door and the door closed and locked behind her.

Another woman had a similar account. She'd been planning on staying at the motel that night but had been gently, as she put it, forced out of the room. Management couldn't unlock it. Needless to say she stayed somewhere else that night.

These two stories did not sound like a typical vengeful ghost to Sam. Something is different about it. Since when are ghosts gentle about anything, he wondered. He points this out to Dean.

"Maybe this goes doesn't like women," Dean suggests, blowing it off. "Bet those Ghostfacers wouldn't think of that," he mutters to himself. Dean has been on the verge of calling the little twerps for hours, just to shove the fact that he and his brother are the real deal and they are just posers. He reasons that they are likely to get hurt if they keep pretending to be ghost hunters.

"Enough already," Sam says, tired of Dean's petty grudge. He stands up and stretches. "I'm going to get something to eat," Sam announced. "You want anything?"

Dean gives his calorie and fat-filled order and adds, "Grab some beer on your way back too.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Sam heads out to the closest no-name burger joint within walking distance. He decides to sit and eat there, spending a little time away from his brother so he can get over whatever petty feud he's got going with Harry and Ed. Honestly, Sam doesn't care about them, their show, or the silly book. He and Dean had done more than enough to keep those kids away from that stuff. But if they were too stupid to heed the advice then so be it.

It takes a minute to register for Sam, but he finally looks up and realizes there are people at every table around him just watching him eat. He looks at them all, smiling nervously. Finally, one of the women smiles as her eyes turn black. Sam jumps up in surprise, knocking his food to the floor. The staff and other patrons look at him either confused or shaking their heads at his manners. But the demons ... the demons just snicker amongst themselves.

Surrounded by regular people, Sam realizes he can't just pull his gun or the angel blade he decided to carry. That would draw too much attention and likely one of the good citizens would call the cops. He briefly chews on the idea of drawing them outside to a secluded area, but that is not possible. There are almost a dozen of them. Even if Dean were at his side it is unlikely they would be able to take all of them.

Dean, Sam thinks, remembering he has his phone. He fumbles in his pocket for his cell phone. One of the women, the redhead that flashed her black eyes at him, comes up to him shaking her head. Slinking around him, she plucks his phone out of his hand and slips it into his back pocket, tapping his ass when she's done.

A few of the demons make their way outside, looking back at the others and Sam as they o. A few more leave, and then its just Sam, two male demons, and the one female that won't keep her hands off him.

"Come on, lover boy," the woman purrs. She wraps her arm around his and together they are escorted out of the fast food joint.

The group walks down the street, away from the motel, and down a side street. Sam is well and truly scared now. He doesn't know what they want nor where they are taking him. He tries his best to ignore the woman as she clings to him, rubbing her hand across his chest. He glances up at a street name as they turn onto it. Ahead is an abandoned building surrounded by a few dilapidated homes. Sam is led into the building through a broken door.

Moonlight streams through the holes in the roof, eerily lighting the place. Sam looks around, noticing the building doesn't look lived in, but rather being used as a convenient spot to take him. However, that thought changes as they go through a set of double doors to what used to be the warehouse portion of the building.

The area is lit with what appears to be a million candles sitting on the floor and abandoned shelves. A few grace the exposed rafters above them. In the middle there is a chair surrounded by symbols that look like a devil's trap, but something is off about them.

Sam realizes quickly that he is in so far over his head and he is all alone. His brother probably isn't even worried about him yet. He looks around, taking note of where each demon is. There is no way he can get through an exorcism, not one big enough for all of them, and certainly not without them stopping him.

Finally, Sam decides that he has nothing to lose as he spins out of the female's grasp and swings a hard punch at her face. It connects and she goes sprawling on the floor. The other demons are momentarily shocked which gives him the few seconds needed to pull out his gun. He trains it on the one closest to him as he backs up to the double doors they came through.

Instead of coming after him en masse, the demons start laughing, softly at first before they all join in. Their laughs echo off the cement floor and the metal roof. Sam is thoroughly confused by their reaction. After a few seconds he decides to turn tail and run. He explodes through the double doors and weaves his way through the detritus of the abandoned building.

Footsteps pound on the floor after him. Sam spares a quick glance back to see four of the demons closing in to him. A few more go off to one side, possibly to cut him off.

As he runs, Sam knocks over some boxes, hoping to slow some of the demons down. He sees one coming up on his left side and he fires his gun in their direction, missing completely. Sparing a quick look behind him, he sees two of the male demons within feet of him. He points his gun behind him and shoots again, missing wildly. Swerving to the right he jumps over a downed rack. There is a door off to the right, probably a side door and he heads that way.

But, Sam never makes it. The female demon who had been all over him jumps from his left off some boxes and tackles him to the ground. Sam's head hits hard on the cement floor and the two of them roll a few feet. Sam tries to bring his gun up to shoot her as she climbs on top of him, but she knocks the gun away and it clatters on the floor out of reach.

"I was hoping you'd run," the woman says from above him. She pulls her arm back and punches him in the face. With The blow to his head from falling on concrete and the punch just delivered him, Sam slowly blacks out and succumbs to the darkness.

 

Dean hangs up his phone, having called Sam for the fifth time now and getting no answer. He knows in his gut something is wrong and curses himself for letting Sam go off alone. He wishes he had gone with him, or forced Sam to talk about what was bothering him. Unable to stay at the motel any longer, Dean grabs his jacket from the bed and the weapons under his pillow and turns to leave.

"Are you kidding me?!" Dean cries out when he turns around and sees Crowley standing by the door.

"Hello to you too, Dean," Crowley says smiling. He goes to take a step forward, but sees the devil's trap on the floor and steps around it, shaking one finger at Dean. "How have you been? You're looking well, Crowley. Thank you." The demon has a mock conversation with himself. "Really, where are the niceties these days?"

Dean levels a gun at Crowley and shoots him square in the chest. The force of the bullet knocks the demon back a step.

"I just had this suit tailored!" Crowley exclaims in anger. He puts a finger through the new hole in the jacket. "Was that really necessary?"

"I don't have time for you, Crowley," Dean growls, cocking the gun again. "Out of my way."

"Yes, yes. Must save that brother of yours," Crowley says knowingly.

Crossing the space between them in three strides, Dean loses the gun and pulls the demon blade out, placing it at Crowley's throat. "Where is Sam?" he demands.

Leaning back slightly to look up at Dean, Crowley puts his hands up and slowly pushes the blade away from his neck. He spends a silent, tense moment adjusting his suit. "I'll tell you," Crowley says, "on one condition."

"How 'bout the condition is I spare your pathetic life?" Dean spits, already tired of the demons games.

"Come now, Dean," Crowley says, looking at him cynically. "That's not how this works and you know it."

"What do you want?" Dean asks, hand gripped tightly on the one weapon that could rid him of the annoying little prick. The only thing stopping him from plunging it into his throat is the possibility Crowley does know where Sam is. There is also a high probability that he took Sam just so he could have leverage to get Dean to do something for him. It burns Dean that he has to even consider dealing with Crowley.

"I want your boy to keep his end in all of this," Crowley says smoothly.

"What boy? Keep whose end in what?" Dean asks, thoroughly confused. He worries for a moment that Sam lied to him and had actually struck a deal with Crowley the other night and the reason he is in trouble now is because he did not deliver on his end of the deal.

Crowley rolls his eyes. "I'm amazed you boys can tie your shoes by yourself." When it seems Dean still doesn't understand, he sighs and says, "Your little guardian Angel."

"Cas?" Dean asks, still confused. He hasn't heard from Castiel in a while. He wonders if its because Cas made a deal with Crowley, but that doesn't seem likely.

"Yes," Crowley says, exasperated. "Your little feathered friend has stopped fighting Raphael. Who, I might add, wants to kill you and your brother and bring Lucifer back."

"What do you mean he's stopped fighting?" Dean asks, on the verge of panicking. Now he wonders if it is Angels that have Sam and not Crowley's flunkies.

"He's all but singing bloody Kumbaya from what I've hears." Crowley motions to the door. "Now, get your Angel to do his thing and I will show you to Moose."

Dean flounders for a moment, caught between wanting to save his brother and wanting to not believe his brother is in any danger. Finally, deciding backup would not go amiss, he lowers his head and prays silently for Castiel to come to his aid.

"Dean," Castiel says from behind him. However, before Dean can say anything, he sees Crowley standing there. "Watch out!" Castiel yells, pushing Dean behind him as he drops his blade to his hand.

"Cas! No!" Dean exclaims, pulling at Castiel's arm to prevent him from stabbing Crowley.

"Keep a leash on him, would ya?" Crowley says, making sure he is as far away from the Angel as he can be in the small space.

"What is going on, Dean?" Castiel asks, very confused. He fears for his friend, consorting with a demon, and one that claims to be the King of Hell at that.

"Well, it seems 'ole Sammy-boy -"

Quick as can be Dean lashes out and back hands Crowley, interrupting him. "Shut up," Dean says seriously. Crowley gingerly touches his face and wisely doesn't say another word.

"Quick version is I think Sam's in trouble. Crowley here says he can help, but only if you stop being a pansy," Dean says succinctly.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Crowley says, clearly enjoying the pansy comment. Dean gives him a deadly look and he mimes zipping his mouth.

"Pansy?" Castiel asks, cocking his head to the side.

Sighing, hating that he can't seem to make this any quicker, Dean says, "He says you are no longer fighting Raphael."

"Oh," Cas says, understanding. "That is correct. I am being a pansy, as you say."

Crowley can't hold back the snicker at Castiel's admission and not even a glare from Dean can get him to stop.

"Enough!" Dean says frustrated with all of them. "Sam is in danger and I need to get to him. Cas, fight Raphael. Crowley, where is Sam?”


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Singing is the first thing Sam is aware of as it echoes off every surface. The words are in Latin, and while he catches some phrases, most are lost on him. His head lolls to one side, movement making it pound. Eventually he braves opening his eyes, already resigned to the fact that he had not dreamt being captured by a gang of demons.

"He's waking up," a male voice says from off to his right. Sam looks in that direction, but he finds it's still hard to focus on anything.

Moving his limbs and body next, Sam realizes he is tied to a rather large chair, as his shoulders are held tightly against the back. Look at his arms he can see a thick ornate arm rest that he is tied to. It almost appears to be a throne-like chair.

Panicked now, Sam pulls at his restraints. There are more demons in the warehouse now. Some are grouped, talking quietly amongst themselves, others are off alone, just staring at him. The female demon from earlier climbs on his lap and straddles him, smiling. He notices her black shirt is ripped on the sides and her black jeans are as dirty as her red hair.

"Hello, sweetie," she says, gyrating on his lap. She moves to kiss him and Sam turns his head away in disgust. That doesn't seem to deter her in the least as she runs her tongue up his neck, ending with a nip on his earlobe.

"Get off of me," Sam growls.

The demon pouts. She grabs his chin and forces him to look at her. "You didn't used to mind a little demon love." Before he can say anything she kisses him on the lips and shoves her tongue in his mouth. Sam refuses to kiss back. When she's done he look at her with hate filled eyes and spits in her face.

She reacts quick as a snake with a slap to his face. The demon raises her hand again, fingers like claws, and goes to hit him again but another demon grabs her hand and stops her.

"Enough, Victoria," the man says. He pulls her down from Sam's lap and takes her off to the side. "He will not be pleased if we harm his vessel."

With those words Sam realizes what these demons want him for. At first he'd been worried they just wanted to kill him for being a Winchester. Now he thinks death would be a blessing compared to being Lucifer's vessel again. The words of the demon they'd exorcised in Oklahoma comes back to haunt him again. Crowley had told him if he believed Lucifer was still within him, he would kill Sam. Perhaps Crowley was not the King of Hell after all and was wrong.

"Call him," one of the demons say to a group off to the left.

Steeling himself for a repossession by Lucifer, Sam grips the arms of the chair he is tied to and tries to mentally keep himself grounded within his own body. He refuses to give in without a fight. However, he hears several demons chanting in Enochian and the name Raphael comes from them.

Suddenly several Angels appear in grey suits. They are situated in a circle around the Archangel Raphael. He sees Sam and smiles. The demons steer clear of the Angels as they slowly make their way towards Sam.

"Sam Winchester," Raphael says, smiling at him. "What a pleasure to meet you again."

Deciding not to say anything for the moment, Sam just glares at the Angel. Castiel had told them that Raphael wanted both he and his brother dead. He does not understand what is going on here. The demons called him down, but for what purpose, he wonders.

"Why is he bound?" Raphael asks what appears to be the leader of the gang of demons.

"He ran," the demon says simply.

"He is not running now," Raphael says with a wave of his hand the ropes drop free for him. "There, now we can all be civilized."

Sam rubs his wrists where he had strained against the bonds. Like Raphael said, he is not running now. There is not much point. There are almost two dozen demons and at least ten Angels, all with their eyes on him. He wouldn't get but a couple feet before he was beaten and dragged back.

"What do you want?" Sam finally asks.

Throwing his head back, Raphael laughs long and loud. A few of the Angels chuckle along with him. "Your brother eluded my grasp and I was not able to fulfill what is meant to come about. He was to be the instrument that would bring about your return. Then I learn you are back, walking the Earth and snubbing your nose at your destiny." Raphael tsks. "You Winchester boys do not understand your place. God has a plan for all mankind. Yours is a special plan."

"No one said we'd have to listen to them preach," a demon complains from behind the group of Angels. He is older, in his mid-forties, portly, and wearing overalls, plaid shirt, and a baseball cap. A few of the demons around him chuckle, making him bolder. "Get on with it already."

Raphael rolls his eyes and gives a dismissive wave to one of the Angels in his entourage. The female smiles as she turns to the demon. He is still smiling when she places her hand on his forehead. The demon screams as Holy Light floods through every piece of him, burning the demon from the inside out. The now empty body falls to the ground in a heap of dead flesh. The other demons that had been near him scatter. With a nod, the female Angel takes her place back beside Raphael.

"Now, where were we?" Raphael asks, looking back at Sam. "Oh, yes. You will be Lucifer's vessel once again."

Sam's fears are confirmed and he closes his eyes briefly, praying to find a way out of this mess and praying that his brother is able to find him and somehow stop this.

"Who would you pray to?" Raphael laughs, having heard Sam's silent prayer. "Our Father hears nothing anymore and your friend, Castiel, has given up the fight. He sits in a bloody field of battle, silent and without a blade to save him."

A few of the other Angels join in Raphael's glee over the situation. Sam notices one to the right and behind the others that does not laugh and does not look at Raphael. Instead his eyes are trained on Sam, unblinking. He isn't sure what to make of that eye contact and Sam looks away before it becomes too uncomfortable.

"What about Michael?" Sam asks, trying to stall so that, should a miracle actually occur, Dean can find him.

Raphael waves Sam's question away. "Michael was weak and did not act quickly enough. He wasted his time trying to get your brother to be his vessel. And so his punishment is to spend eternity in a cage in Hell." He pauses and straightens his blue suit. "I will fight Lucifer and be victorious."

"Bit full of yourself, aren't you?" Sam taunts. It has the effect he wants and Raphael raises a hand to hit him, but stops and regains his composure."

"My brother was right to pick you as his vessel," Raphael says. "You are like him. Always quick to anger those around you. And your Father."

"You won't win," Sam says knowingly. He had shared some memories with Lucifer when he had been possessed. He knows how strong the Angel really is, knows what he is capable of. HE also knows it is not truly Raphael's fight. Just as Gabriel had known he could never take on Lucifer, though he had tried. And died.

Turning away from Sam, Raphael effectively dismisses his statement. Instead he looks to the leader of the demons and beckons him over. Wary, the demon takes a few steps towards the Angel, but still keeps his distance.

"Come now, Harold is it?" Raphael verifies. The demon nods. "For the moment we are forced to work together. Do not fear."

"I don't fear you, Angel," Harold spits. "But you've already broken our truce." He nods in the direction of the body.

"My apologies," Raphael says smoothly, yet utterly insincere about it. "It will not happen again."

"What do you want?" Harold asks, ignoring the apology.

"How close are we to being ready to welcome my brother back to this plane?"

"It's a little over an hour until midnight," Harold supplies checking his watch. "The kid is right."

"Oh? On what account?"

"The Devil will win tonight," Harold says confidently. A few of the other demons nod and mutter their agreement.

"And what does your new leader think of all this?" Raphael asks, motioning around the room. "What does he call himself – the King of Hell?"

"Crowley?" Harold confirms and scoffs at the idea. "He's just a clever Crossroads Demon. Lucifer will show him what it truly means to be King."

The other demons shout their agreement and curse Crowley for ever assuming he could lead the demons. However, Sam notices how few demons are actually here. That must mean Crowley has far more influence in Hell than he or Dean ever gave him credit for. If he makes it out of here alive, he'll have to let Dean know to be more careful when dealing with him.

As far as Sam has been able to tell, it appears the demons and Angels are working together on this. It is a frightening thought to realize that good and evil can work towards the common goal of losing the Devil into the world. He is sure the demons are counting on being able to have free reign on Earth while the Angel's goal is to be righteous and smite the Devil himself. It's so twisted to Sam that the only beings who can stop this, the Angels, and who should not want Hell on Earth are the very ones trying to ensure that it happens.

A noise from outside the warehouse draws Sam's attention. It sounds like a scream from a woman, but no one else seems phased by it. Moments later several more demons come in from the back of the warehouse where they pulled back the steel wall that is loose. He sees a few humans among them, struggling against the demons' hold on them. It appears there are four humans, two women and two men. All four are held down as black smoke swirls down from the rafters and into the humans who then become possessed.

The demons hoot and holler their welcomes at the newcomers. Some of them excitedly explain what is going on and point to Sam. One of the men comes running at Sam and falls at his feet.

"I knew it," he says, looking up at Sam reverently. "I told you he was coming. I told you it would happen!"

Recognizing the demon as the one he had exorcised, Sam pulls his feet away and up as the demon goes to kiss them. This demon is almost fanatical in his worship of Lucifer.

One of the Angels comes over and grabs the demon at the back of his neck and throws him away from Sam. They then silently agree to stand in front of Sam. The one he'd made eye contact with earlier stands to his right. Sam opens his mouth to say something but the Angel shakes his head very slightly. Sam closes his mouth.

"Ezekiel," Raphael says. Sam's heart drops to his stomach. "Does our guest need anything?"

"Guest?" Sam asks incredulously.

"Prisoner, if you prefer," Raphael bows in deference.

"You don't have to do this," Sam says, glancing quickly at Ezekiel. "There doesn't have to be an Apocalypse. Lucifer and Michael can stay in the cage and it can all be as it is. We stopped it, and nothing happened. There was no wrath of God for it not coming to pass."

"No," Raphael says flatly. "It must be done. I have to prove that I am the one meant to rule Heaven."

"And these are your only supporters?" Sam asks, motioning to his Angel guard. "I think it will take more than beating Lucifer to prove your worth."

Storming up to Sam, Raphael backhands him and Sam's head bounces off the back of the hard wood chair. Sam tastes blood in his mouth. Leaning forward, he spits it out at Raphael's feet, fury in his eyes.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"He's in a warehouse not far from here," Crowley says, informing Dean and Castiel.

"Let's go," Dean says, turning to grab his weapons. He turns back around to find the demon has vanished. For a moment Dean is furious at Crowley before quickly realizing there was no way Crowley was ever going to go with them anyway. Thankfully Castiel is still here. Together they walk out to the Impala and Dean climbs in.

Leaning down to the window, Castiel says, "I can take us there quickly."

"I want my stuff," Dean says, pointing to the trunk of the car. "Get in if you're coming."

Reluctantly Castiel climbs into the vehicle, still wary of this mode of transportation. He is thrown around the front seat and has to hold onto the dash as Dean floors the car in reverse, then tosses it in drive, tearing out of the parking lot.

"I am sorry, Dean," Castiel says sincerely as they speed through the streets looking for anything that might resemble a warehouse.

"Save it," Dean says sharply, not in the mood to talk. All he wants to do is find his brother and stop or kill whoever took him.

"There," Castiel points down the road to a rundown building. Dean slows down before he get to it and stops.

Climbing out of the car, he opens the trunk and pulls out a pair of binoculars. There are many broken or boarded up windows on the building. Looking around he sees one demon on the roof and another walking towards the street from a side driveway leading to the back.

Putting the binoculars away, he pulls out two old military style water bottles filled with Holy Water and clips them to his belt on either side. He also puts the angel blade in his belt and takes the demon blade in hand. A gun, mostly useless except for a distraction goes in the back of his belt. Dean shuts the trunk.

"Let's go," he says to Castiel, only to realize the Angel is gone. Suddenly a bright light flares from the roof and Dean goes running towards the building.

Dean makes it to the second demon just as Castiel lays his hand upon its forehead, destroying it.

"Couldn't you wait for me?" Dean hisses quietly.

"I thought you were in a hurry," Castiel explains.

"I am, but lets not shout that we're here. We need to be a little more stealthy and less bash and smash."

"My apologies," Castiel says, following Dean as he makes his way down the length of the building.

Dean stops at the corner and puts a hand out to halt Castiel as well. Carefully he looks around the corner. It appears to be empty. He turns to Cas to tell him the plan.

"Dean, I am sorry if I let you down," Castiel blurts out, unable to hold his apology in any longer. He is afraid they may not make it out of this and he needs to get this off his chest.

"We're doing this now?" Dean hisses again. He sees Cas' face and sighs, resigned to the fact he cannot stop the Angel from saying whatever it is he needs to say. "Fine. You didn't let me down. Okay? Now, can we go save my brother?"

"You called me a pansy," Castiel pouts.

"Oh. My. God. Seriously?" Dean asks, disbelieving. "I'm trying to save Sam. You're not a pansy. If you want to start a hippie commune in Heaven, I don't care. Now, I'm sorry I called you a pansy. Let's go get Sam, okay?"

Castiel nods, not entirely placated but finally understanding that they need to go and go now. Together they move around the corner and see a piece of the wall bent back. Candlelight floods out from the breech. Carefully Dean looks in.

What he sees inside boils Dean's blood. Sam is illuminated in the center of the warehouse as he sits upon a wooden throne-like chair. There are no less than Six Angels standing around Sam. Dean can't tell if they are protecting him, guarding him, or holding him hostage. Groups of demons litter the warehouse and Dean can't count them all. A group of them part and Raphael comes into view.

Moving away from the opening Dean cusses softly. This is a suicide mission, Dean realizes. There is no way they will get out of this alive. He looks over and Castiel who is silently asking him what he saw.

Dean explains what they are up against inside the warehouse. He also, in a moment of weakness, expresses his concerns about him and Sam not making it out alive. "Thank you," Dean says in a wave of tenderness, "for everything."

"Oh!" Castiel says, just remembering something. He beams at Dean. "You are not barred from Heaven and neither is your brother."

"But, you said ..."

Castiel nods, "Yes, but I spoke to Peter -"

"Wait ... THE Peter? Of like, the Pearly Gates?"

"Yes," Castiel confirms as though that should be obvious. "He said it is not for Raphael or any Angel to decide, but for the Lord to judge."

"Good to know," Dean shakes out his limbs and cracks his neck. "Alright, so its just you and me."

"And Ezekiel," Castiel adds.

"Ezekiel?"

"Yes, he is the one with the sharp jaw and short brown hair. He is in my Garrisson."

"He's an ally?"

"Very much so."

Sighing, Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. "Cas, that's one of those things I need to know prior to going in guns blazing. Just ... anyone else I shouldn't kill?"

For a moment Castiel considers asking him not to kill any of his brothers or sisters, but he knows Dean will do anything to keep he and his brother alive. Castiel also understands the Angels supporting Raphael are unlikely to be peaceable when met with any type of force. It is sad, but Castiel resolves himself to fighting once more for, what he prays to be, the last time. Dean looks to him to see if he is ready. Castiel lets his blade drop to his hand and nods.

Together Dean and Castiel slip in through the hole in the wall and move silently and quickly to a shaded corner of the warehouse. They are not seen by anyone, they don't think.

"Stay here until it starts," Dean whispers, wanting them to think he is alone for a moment. Castiel nods.

Taking a deep breath, Dean takes a few steps forward into the light and yells, "Hey assbutts!"

The entire warehouse goes silent for the space of a heartbeat and then they all seem to come at Dean at once. The first demon to make it to him gets his throat slit by the demon blade. The second gets flipped over his back. Castiel emerges from the shadows and burns the demon from its host in a blaze of light. Castiel's wings make a shadow on the wall behind him as he lets the light flood through him.

Stepping up next to Dean, Castiel trades blows with another demon before quickly dispatching him with his blade. Dean takes on a female demon and dodges several quick blows and kicks from her before burying the blade deep in her chest. HE is unable to retrieve that blade due to more demons coming for him so he reaches in his belt for the angel blade. With the other hand he pulls one of the Holy Water bottles off his belt, pops the top, and throws it on the five demons headed for them.

As soon as the fighting started, the Angels moved as one to protect Raphael. Three were sent after Dean and Castiel. One stays next to Sam.

"Come," Ezekiel hisses, keeping his eye on Raphael.

"My brother," Sam says, pointing helplessly in Dean's direction.

Ezekiel pulls Sam from the chair and begins half dragging him and half walking him out a pair of doors nearest them and away from the fighting.

"No!" Sam yells, pulling on the arms that are taking him further away. "I need to help him!"

"I was told to make sure you were safe," Ezekiel says, going into the abandoned attached building. "Helping your brother would not keep you safe."

"Please," Sam says, finally pulling free. "That's my brother. We have to help him and Cas."

"Castiel charged me with your safety," Ezekiel says. "He would not want you to die to save him."

"It's not his choice," Sam says defiantly. Deep down he appreciates Castiel sending another Angel to help him. Now he wants to say his thanks by helping them.

Ezekiel thinks about Sam's statement for a long moment then nods. He hands his angel blade to Sam in silent approval.

"What about you?" Sam asks.

A flood of Holy Light comes from inside Ezekiel, illuminating his skin and eyes and showing his wings fan out behind him before he takes a deep breath and locks the power back inside of himself.

"Got it," Sam says, understanding. Together they head back to the warehouse to join in the fight.

Their departure had not gone unnoticed, however, and three Angels bust through the doors back to the warehouse, blades in hand. Sam and Ezekiel prepare to fight.

"Ezekiel, you betray us, brother," the female Angel says, sorrow in her voice.

"It is you, Samantha, that has betrayed all our kind. This is not what our Father would want," Ezekiel counters.

"No one knows what Father would want. He has abandoned us!" Samantha cries out.

"He left, yes," Ezekiel concedes. "However he left us with the knowledge and tools needed to continue our Righteous path. What you and Raphael and the other seek to do is blasphemous and I apologize, but I cannot allow you to continue and harm this human or anyone else."

"You would die for this one human?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes, as should you if you had not fallen so far from Grace."

With a might cry, Samantha charges Ezekiel, blade held high. Sam moves out of their way and is accosted by one of the other Angels. He seems phased by the conversation and has fury in his eyes. HE can only dodge or evade the blows that come quickly. A bright light momentarily blinds Sam as Ezekiel dispatches Samantha with her own blade. He comes to Sam's aid and together they fight back. Ezekiel's blade pierces the Angel's chest and he too goes down in a flash of Holy Light.

The third Angel stands there, looking sad and slightly lost.

"Will you stand with us, Simiel?" Ezekiel asks.

"No," Simiel says, hanging his head. HE looks up at Ezekiel, then at Sam. "I will not stand in your way, either." And with that Simiel vanishes, leaving them to move into the warehouse.  
Sam looks around for his brother and panics for a moment when he cannot find Dean.

"There," Ezekiel says, pointing to a group of demons to the left of the thron Sam had been strapped to. As Sam moves towards Dean, another pair of Angels block his path. HE readies himself for their attack when Ezekiel pushes him away. "Go," he says, facing off the Angels.

Sam hesitates for only a moment before running to Dean who is surrounded and outnumbered. Having the benefit of surprise, Sam quickly takes out two demons with his blade. The other demons notice and two more turn in his direction.

Dean catches sight of his brother and smiles fiercely, going in for a quick kill with renewed vigor. Together the brothers make short work of the remaining three demons between them.

"Sammy," Dean says through a swollen lip. He pulls his brother in for a one armed hug. They share a moment before pulling back and getting back to matters at hand.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asks, looking around. He spots the Angel in the far right corner, fighting for his life against a mix of Angels and demons. They silently agree to go help their friend and take off in that direction.

A few demons come at them as they make their way to Castiel, but the brothers spare no time to fight and simply destroy them with a swiftness. They see Castiel, beaten and bloody, trying his hardest to fight off the Angel's and demons around him. Castiel does not see Sam or Dean until they dispatch an Angel that illuminates the dark corner. He smile and stands up fully, taking out the demon to his right.

Dean taps an Angel on her shoulder with the blade to her her attention. She turns, surprised to see him. She swings a punch at him and he ducks, landing a blow of his own with his left. She recovers quickly and kicks out. The kick lands on Dean's chest and sends him sprawling. He rolls to the side to avoid her stomping on him, then gets up to swing the blade. Cloth rips and a flash of light escapes as he cuts her.

"That all you got, sweetheart?" Dean taunts, twirling the blade in his had. The Angel cries out in fury and rushes him. A few of her punches land, as do some of his. She manages to slice his cheek and Dean finally has enough of the dance and plunges his blade deep into her chest.

Sam, while Dean is fighting his Angel, takes on two demons. He recognizes them both from when they had abducted him.

"Well, hello darling," Victoria purrs, cocking her hip. "Now we really get to have some fun."

The three of them face off, the demons circling Sam in opposite directions. He lashes out at the male demon and cuts along his belly. He cries out in pain and goes after Sam. As the two fight, Victoria jumps on his back, holding on and laughing like its a rodeo ride. Sam grabs her right arm with his left and and leans over, throwing her into the other demon. Driving the angel blade down through her back, Sam manages to pierce both demons, destroying them.

Sam and Dean go back to Castiel and together they take down the last Angel and the three demons that hadn't fled yet.

"Thank you," Castiel says, breathing heavily. Dean puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes. "Ezekiel!" Castiel calls out, seeing his brother is being held by his neck, forced to his knees in front of Raphael.

"Raphael," Castiel pleads, taking a step forward. "Let our brother go."

"Castiel," Raphael says, shaking his head. "Will you never learn? Your place is not among the humans. Your place is in Heaven with your brothers and sisters. These two ... their fate should not concern you."

Taking a step closer, Castiel argues. "How wrong you are. They are our Fathers creation, just as we are. Leave them and let Ezekiel go, then head back to Heaven. Atone. Ask our Father's forgiveness for how far you have fallen."

Anger overcomes Raphael as he squeezes Ezekiel's throat tighter. He looks at Sam and begins chanting in Enochian, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Sam!" Dean cries out as Sam drops to the floor in convulsions. Castiel runs at Raphael, but is thrown by an invisible force as Raphael moves his free hand. Castiel falls to the floor unconscious.

Images flood Sam's mind, torture and Lucifer's face fill his vision. He can feel the fallen Angel stir within him, digging his way to the surface of Sam's consciousness. No, Sam thinks, panicking. He cannot allow himself to be used again.

In a blind rage, Dean runs at Raphael who is still chanting. His blade is raised high but he does not get to sink it into Raphael's flesh. The Angel flicks his hand and Dean is thrown towards Castiel and lands hard.

The warehouse, the concrete beneath him, the sounds around him all slowly fade from Sam's immediate perception. Instead if is replaced by Lucifer's maniacal laughter. Sam is horrified to hear that laughter start to spill out of his own mouth as Lucifer slowly takes over his body.

I revoke my permission, Sam think furiously. I no longer give consent to use me as a vessel. Leave. Leave. Leave!

Suddenly Sam is slammed back into his own body. The pressure Lucifer had been exerting on his mind is gone. He sits up, stunned and bewildered. He looks at his hands and turns them over, making sure he is fully back in control.

Raphael stop his chanting and smiles, unaware of his failure. "Welcome back, brother."

Standing, Sam shakes his head. "Lucifer is gone."

Before Raphael can react and angel blade pierces his heart. Ezekiel stands as the pressure on his neck is released and he shoves the blade in further. Holy Light floods the warehouse as Raphael dies. He falls to the ground as his wings are burned into the concrete.

Sam gives Ezekiel a brief nod of thanks before running over to his brother. He helps Dean sit up carefully.

"Sammy?" Dean asks, dazed from the hit his head took.

"Yeah," Sam confirms proudly. HE pulls his brother into a hug, trying in vain to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

As the brothers rejoice in their success, Ezekiel places two fingers on Castiel's forehead, healing his vessel and sits back on his haunches as Castiel comes to. The four of them look around, amazed they have made it, and grateful they are alive. Sam gives Dean a had up then turned to help up Ezekiel while Dean helps Cas to his feet.

A slow golf clap rings out in the near silence of the warehouse. The two hunters and the two Angels turn as one to the noise.

"Crowley," Dean growls.

"My, my. You boys just keep coming up roses," Crowley says, looking at the four of them.

"You said Lucifer wasn't inside of me," Sam says angrily.

"No, I said if I though he was, I wouldn't let you live," Crowley corrects. "And now I let you live ... for now." With that no-so-veiled threat, Crowley vanishes.

"Dammit!" Dean curses.

"What is wrong?" Castiel asks concerned.

"We just did him another favor," Sam explains. "By making sure Lucifer cannot use me as a vessel we have secured his place as King of Hell."

"Forget it," Dean says, tired. "The Devil you know, right?" He sighs and looks to Castiel and Ezekiel. "Thanks."

"Castiel was correct in his description of you," Ezekiel says smiling.

Dean opens his mouth to say something but decides better of it. Instead he motions with his head that they should get out of here. He looks behind him to ask if the Angels want to join them for post-fight drinks, only to find them gone. Dean shakes his head and smiles slightly.

Together Sam and Dean make their way back to the Impala and then back to the motel to crash. Weary to the bone the brothers drop off into their respective beds.

"Thanks," Sam says into the darkness, "for coming for me."

"Always."

**THE END**


End file.
